And What Are We Praying to?

“Stop worshipping answers,” the wise ones declare,
In the quiet of wisdom, breathe the open air.
For truth is a river, winding, untamed,
In the dance of questions, knowledge is named.

In the hush of the cosmos, where mysteries reside,
The seeker finds solace, on truth’s gentle tide.
Not in rigid doctrines or dogmas confined,
But in the ebb and flow of the curious mind.

Let queries unfurl like petals at dawn,
In the garden of wonder, where wisdom is drawn.
Each puzzle, a thread in the fabric of thought,
A tapestry woven, in questions, we’re taught.

The stars in their silence, the oceans profound,
Whisper the secrets that answers can’t sound.
For the essence of knowing is not in the end,
But the journey through questions, a lifelong friend.

So cease the relentless pursuit of the final,
Embrace the uncertainty, the enigma, the primal.
In the chapel of wonder, let questions be sung,
The hymn of the curious, forever young.