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We find so much pleasure in unscrambling words.
Filling in numbers sequentially in boxes frustrating but undeterred we solve puzzles.
We make sense of senseless crossword clues and answers that need questions.
We smirk at our intelligence, our cleverness, our ability to see what is unseen.
And so I believe in my logic see
And by this creed
I untangle the knots of my life.
See I solve them like the New York Times crossword on a Sunday
The pieces of this puzzle see they create
The future I have dreamt up with these fragments
I know I’ve solved the riddle you’ve intricately woven through my brain
All the clues leading me to believe in you
And I feel satisfied and true
We find so much pleasure in analyzing our perceptions
Yea, we’ve got it all figured out this crazy thing called humanity
In which experience teaches us to believe only our side of the story
Our explanations are never universal, but intricately personal and so
Our expectations, our answers, fail to be terminal
But while the falsely permanent permeate our rational
Puppeteers sit and cheer for the ideas they’ve engineered.
And sometimes we get arrogant and we think we have derived the truth that lies beneath his words and actions but face it
Only when his words are actions are truthful can we feel we’ve found truth
And well face it, it is easy to confused when he seems like reality but what we see in him is the charade that he’s channeling, or the bouquet he is carrying, never the heart that isn’t fluttering, the way yours does.