The Seven Questions

You mean to tell me happiness is a woman
And joy and God are actually everything
Without the terse slap of time?
You mean to tell me that God is dead
He was murdered by the ugly man who could not stand
That ultimate sin–
That witnessing and witnessing under waves of mercy?
Would you rather God had been born blind
So the ugly man could live without shame?
You mean to tell me you think us Higher men
Silly, devout
Slaves to nonsense
A none sense you mourn
You mean to tell me you celebrate eternity and eternity alone
You mean to tell me if everything lasted forever
Your words would be simple?
Would you wake up from your stupor
If you had fallen asleep, just one more time?

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