So, here I am like a fish in the water trying to make my way through,
A volume so very much like anything else, life is blue.
Should I swim? Should I eat? What more do I do,
Ah yes! I can dream, and say once a fish flew.
Poems here and poems there, where is the searching mind in thee?
Is it in me, is it out there, from evidence so scarce,
For if it is reason I seek, and neglect the Truth,
Would I blush when I see Him working behind the bush?
Inspiration was raining down on me, luckily, I had my umbrella
It was a tattered one though; I sought shelter in a veranda.
Eons of rational wisdom have given me reason
