Who are we?

Who are we? (Buddha is laughing)

We are the soul of the universes.

Individual souls we may or may not have although we wish,

But we have soul.

We are soul.

The universes give themselves the ability to experience,

By some trick of enslaved dimensions,

Created by life in another time, another realm,

We are the soul.

We allow the universes to experience themselves;

The vastness, the mortality,

The beauty of every landscape and snowflake,

The music of Beethovens, the despair of starvation.

We are all one, what we call life.

On billions and billions of planets we thrive,

An inevitable part of our small universe within infinity.

We are the soul if not the creator.

Who are we?

Rather obvious,

My pea brain

Has no clue.

We think therefore we are, maybe (Kierkegaard mistrusted),

We have to go on only what our brains interpret as ourselves.

We have our science, religions, art, and destructive tendencies -

We can use these to seek; all may have some truth if there is any.

Who are we? This is my story.

Tomorrow I'll tell you a different one,

Lies, lies, lies;

But soul is beyond.