They say, you can feel all of my distrust wafting against your incomprehensible spirit, what is it to you if I profess my insults to believing in you?
—in what way should I believe?
I'm unknowledgeable in all works of life, but live a working life.
I'm not wise, I'm a fool.
I'm no different than anything.
I have many questions for you, God/universe.
I have woven doctrines in my head, and in each you are here to relieve me from what you have caused.
What mock is this?
What mock have you given us all.
I must trust in the meaningless and look up to you.
—fear you while you smite me and my companions on earth.
I have danced on each thought of religion and spirituality and I think of the damning insult of you beings.
—how my tongue will condemn me to horrors while the human experience is under your dogmatic fist.
I understand Solomon's findings, that in attempt of the search we must look up to what we fear, for it only understands, for it can only ease, for enjoyment lies in the man above the sun.
I have never been so grueling, so untrusting in my trust.
I trust in the consolation you may give, but I do not trust in the spirit of you.
Everything is meaningless, yet every fine patent is enough to sustain joy.
I am in utter disappointment at these beings I don't understand.
Living in questions, I fear will not provide justifiable answers.