Poetry

Poetry

So what happens to the wandering soul that explores its genesis
Persistent nagging questions were its nemesis
Some answered by holy writs or science
Some never to be answered
Those are the ones that afflict its curious mind
Tormenting its soul
Nay it will never be clearer
There will always be questions that will besiege this wandering soul
Essence of living on this land
Essence of its existence
Yet….
A higher place than most may be attained by this soul
All because it wandered

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