Question Marks-Shad

What's with this book now Looks like any other good brown hardcover book bound The type really took down in the libraries destined for dust That people can't quite put down or brush off Even though it's been labeled hateful Abused to validate racial subjugation and justify hatred It just defies explanation How pages could be both burned and bashed Learned and loved Hated Yet translated into every single tongue If this was just some regular book then how come And even these divisions it caused is all for proof As we find extreme reactions wherever there is truth And why have we heard it quoted a billion times Could it be more than just some brilliant lines A simple tradition to keep men so engaged in the pages By something beyond even the statements In the way the scribes From different tribes In different places at different times Could all scribble lines But without collusion perfectly coincide And connect like pieces of a puzzle Made from parables And prophecies Parallels and paradoxes that seem to unlock the mysteries As we watch the history unfold Just as it was foretold The scrolls unrolled to reveal Words with that strongest trained sense of all things real Could it be made up or actually Factually be Scholars have tested the historical accuracy But beyond science Even intuition attests To what the book confirms and all of nature suggests That there is likely a force behind That must possess some kind of mind to design the search With all complex life intertwined But how could we travel through time To unravel the lines And discover the nature of the divine Like is he just and kind Compassionate Old Bearded And vengeful Indifferent Omnipotent And if so He must be some kind of sick old man 'Cause the world as we know it is far from blissful Now all this goes to say That most today Believe in some kind of God Even hope and pray But struggle with religion and faith don't dismay We're not destined to decease before we find The answer to all the question marks A spot we began to understand See All the questions inside man are like hands On the internal compass that guides As we search for what could make our hearts satisfied First we look outside Blind leading blind in succession for success But no one ever conquers the questions It's the quest which only serves to further evidence The irrelevance Of human skill and intelligence Then we look inside And find with introspection There's no bearing to define the direction Towards truth To navigate the course 'Cause not inside or outside The questions point to a source Like is there more to life than sleep Struggle And strife Just eat Hustle And fight And maybe juggle a wife Kids And a job Why are we here Is there a God If there were no answers Would it not be odd Our lives would be nothing but a constant search For something we can't describe But swear we must have lost at birth 'Cause on the search we never feel quite home Even in large crowds we can often feel alone In our own skin trapped like slaves To behave in ways That betray our own will It's strange The inconsistencies and mystery How we often lament that we're not who we wish to be Well For those in this position First off you're not alone Secondly In this condition something interesting is shown The conscience But why would it impose such laws that expose such flaws There seems no just cause But since our conscience is a part of our person The mistake that many make is to ignore it in our searching For happiness Which leaves many incomplete But this is still just the first step to finding peace 'Cause it's not blind devotion to a code of laws But a real relationship with the one true God Pause