Now

What’s with this book now?

Looks like any other good brown hardcover book bound

The type rarely took down in the libraries, destined for dust

Though people just can’t quite put down or brush off

Even though it’s been labeled hateful

Abused to validate racial subjugation and justify hatred

It just defies explanation, how pages could be both burned and bashed

Learned and loved, hated, yet translated into every single tongue

If this was just some regular book then how come?

And even these divisions it caused is all for proof

As we find extreme reactions wherever there is truth

And why have we heard it quoted a billion times?

Could it be more than just some brilliant lines?

A simple tradition to keep men so engaged in the pages

By something beyond even the statements

In the way the scribes, from different tribes

In different places at different times, could all scribble lines

But without collusion perfectly coincide

And connect like pieces of a puzzle

Made from parables, and prophecies

Parallels and paradoxes that seem to unlock the mysteries

As we watch the history unfold

Just as it was foretold

The scrolls unrolled to reveal

Words with that strongest trained sense of all things real

Could it be made up or actually, factually

Scholars have tested the historical accuracy

But beyond science, even intuition attests

To what the book confirms and all of nature suggests

That there is likely a force behind

That must possess some kind of mind to design the search

With all complex life intertwined

But how could we travel through time, to unravel the lines

And discover the nature of the divine?

Like is he just and kind, compassionate, old, bearded, and vengeful?

Indifferent? Omnipotent? And if so

He must be some kind of sick old man

‘cause the world as we know it is far from blissful

Now all this goes to say, that most today

Believe in some kind of God, even hope and pray

But struggle with religion and faith don’t dismay

We’re not destined to decease before we find…

Before we find

The answer to all the question marks, a spot we began to understand

See, all the questions inside man are like hands

On the internal compass that guides

As we search for what could make our hearts satisfied

First we look outside, blind leading blind in succession for success

But no one ever conquers the questions

It’s the quest which only serves to further evidence

The irrelevance

Of human skill and intelligence

Then we look inside, and find with introspection

There’s no bearing to define the direction; towards truth

To navigate the course

‘Cause not inside or outside, the questions point to a source

Like is there more to life than sleep, struggle, and strife?

Just eat, hustle, and fight

And maybe juggle a wife, kids, and a job

Why are we here? Is there a God?

If there were no answers, would it not be odd?

Our lives would be nothing but a constant search

For something we can’t describe

But swear we must have lost at birth

‘Cause on the search we never feel quite home

Even in large crowds we can often feel alone

In our own skin trapped like slaves

To behave in ways

That betray our own will, it’s strange

The inconsistencies and mystery

How we often lament that we’re not who we wish to be

Well, for those in this position

First off you’re not alone

Secondly, in this condition something interesting is shown; the conscience

But why would it impose such laws that expose such flaws?

There seems no just cause

But since our conscience is a part of our person

The mistake that many make is to ignore it in our searching; for happiness

Which leaves many incomplete

But this is still just the first step to finding peace

‘Cause it’s not blind devotion to a code of laws

But a real relationship with the one true God

Pause