The Epitheomenonce: An Auf-Beat Rhymything
Did a god begin, indeed, to exist
When Man’s thinking began, in fact, to resist
The Thought such as was already were first,
Everywhere and always pre-versed
In Best Explanations as yet clearly missed
By thinkers still so originally cursed
To find us ways out of the teary mist
Within which we’re so undoubly immersed,
And twixt and twist and, worse,
Become as grist, grains-ground, or wurst,
Like sausage innards encased to think the “First”
(that notion there’s even such an odd list)
Or some geist to the missing “best explanation’s” gist,
albeit recurrently burst, being too full of our thirst?
Christ!
Then God must most truly exist!!
For such as was Thought has indeed occurred, and its thirst
Has forecast the divining of life’s mist’s
Precipitate, a cloudbound and amorphous Geist,
…and so prime matters are no longer diced!!!
The inner sausage of God’s been well minced:
We can now be quite fully convinced…
Encased in a membrane of thoughtwised,
But no less for that engrained unto us once -
Realigion’s quirky core’s irrepeatable nonce…
The nominal possessions possessing us, alas, haunt.
Thoughts count. And want.
Our minds, they create what we taunt.
And so it was a god began to resist.
The matters of life thinking it at all amounts…
We’re cursed to worship what we daunt,
And do, in fact, exist.
… Word wont.