It seems that most people love a mystery;
we love the puzzles, we’ve bought;
throughout time, through all of history;
we struggled with a puzzle called thought.
It seems a straightforward complexity;
to explain how consciousness works;
instead, it’s become a bane of perplexity;
and many who’ve studied it, are jerks.
Many think it’s a function of the mind;
but how is that even described;
I don’t wish to appear cruel or unkind;
but what sort of folly was imbibed?
Life could never have created thought;
it’s the other way around;
by design of thought, life was wrought;
for that’s how logic sounds.
For, in the beginning, there was thought;
he was known by many a name;
from his plan all reality was brought;
he was the Artist, the picture, and frame.
The entirety of creation screams of design;
though some tend to deplore it;
all brought about by thoughts of the devine;
while some others even ignore it.
Consciousness was the panoply of thought;
a universality of all energy
a divine awareness of all that was wrought;
morphed into being by his synergy.
By the separation, was creation involved;
all, came togther, becoming his Son;
the mystery of the ages, finally resolved;
Master, and created; joined as One.