Of my unclear and unimaginable self
I want none of it. There is nothing
higher than I. Only monks at my feet kissing lice.
I have nothing to give but tears, of which one
is too much and a whole sea
not enough. Do not fathom me here.
Do not touch this. Having laid the cosmic egg
who will take my immortal life in their hands?
Of my thirst, endless floods. Relativism.
And anarchy is all I seem to incur.
It is said this planet came to be
when I was pulled apart.
God Searches For God
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