Life is an empty void—A mistake that happened on purpose. I would know, after all I created it. But whom created me? I am a curse—what if the god in the sky never knew what put them there? The day I existed was a day before “day” was created. Looked at my hands and saw a glove and never knew the wearer. Like someone without a story I decided to create one. Let there be light, let there be shoes, let there be meaning and a star and flute. I need answers on why I am the puppet man—on why I exist.

I created life to find the meaning of my own. The first thing I ever saw was nothingness I wish I was like other gods with answer to all, but the only question I can answer is what breed of dog you have. I called life a tree as joke—but people took it seriously. Why do I eat? Why do I cry? What is true meaning? How does it feel to die? I wish I was a mortal so being controlled will not hurt. Why is life? Why do I live?

I am tired of pulling this strings. But if I was to let go I don't know what would happen. A philosopher once asked me, "If you are all great and mighty, create a question you can't answer." I already did. Someone said meaning is in the absurd. My existence is absurd not meaningful.

Consciousness is the ideal—the lens through which I experience life.
I see a cup, a beautiful one. I hear songs as I eat pineapple.
Each part of me coexists in total sense, yet meaningless.
And I cry—because I am living.
And living makes me happy?
That’s why I cry: because I am conscious.

Each step is complex, yet simple.
Smelling the air, filling with breeze—
it makes me feel squished, but in a good way.
Every thought has a factory behind it.
But what if there is no grand scheme?
What if things are just thinging—
a path we all made, walking forward because we can?

I will die. I know.
It makes me sad.
But that sadness—
that sadness is the happiness
I feel because I am alive.
So is consciousness an apple?
Or am I the apple?

Are we one?
Are we all?
When I die, is it the darkness?
Or the light?
Is it Buddha? YHWH? Hades?
Or just a mimicry of my imagination?

If consciousness is the apple,
am I truly consciousness?
But if I am the apple,
and I die today,
is there meaning in everything?

If there isn’t—
then the sun is a dancing snake
with seventeen eyes,
and no one can change my mind.

But if there is meaning,
then all truths are real,
and there will be no perfect.

Perfect is like beauty—
it is its own dictionary.
I see beauty in green grass and a world of blue.
Someone else sees it in a girl with long eyelashes.
So someone can be perfect.
But no one can.
It sounds like a paradox, but it isn’t.

You can be someone’s perfect—
but are you mine?
And what of the other eight billion people?
Do the ant, the lion,
and the baby giraffe have opinions, too?

Is consciousness a camera?
Or is it the apple again?

And how can God create in His image,
but not make perfection,
if God is perfect?

“I” is a character.
“We” is a symbol.
And I—I mean I—
I would rather live a meaningless life
than be a story with meaning.

Because in a story,
I am conscious,
but not living—
just controlled
by the puppet man with a beard
or the blue man who holds the world.

No, no, no.
Maybe it’s just a quote.
Or maybe it’s nothing at all.

So is the apple—
the one we know as consciousness—
sweet?
Or sour?

I think...
we just eat the apple.
I mean just one.

If it’s sweet—smile.
If it’s sour—
smile when the next one comes.

If stars could sing,
Lord how glorious their songs of praise would be!
If they realized the warmth of the sun was powered by your embrace,
Lord how radiant they would shine for you!

If I had my way, everybody would Praise The Lord.
When we go to Heaven, there can be no greater reward.
God is great and he deserves my praise.
And he will receive it for all of my days.
Even though we don't deserve it, God will forgive our sins.
That's why people should Praise The Lord again and again.
Turning our backs on God is something we can't afford.
When the day is done, everybody should Praise The Lord.

that christmas in whistler
you led me towards something
glorious

i met new people
we shared stories
and i stood by the mountain
while skiers came towards me

gracefully

like a dance upon the snow
synchronized
your presence was everywhere

i could finally see
as your beautiful crystals
showered me

your sun still came to shine
and the star upon the trees aligned
and when it was time to get in line
i saw others just like me

alone at christmas time

oh Yahweh
oh Yahweh
almighty one

how pleasing to know
you chose me
for your son

strings from heaven
a revelation song
praising the lord of lords
who conquered babylon

his word is his bond
he returns for the ones
who overcame and repented
his kingdom has won

the wedding shall begin
i am part of the win
with my finest white linen
prepared to meet the king

his love is sacrificial
righteous
and sweet

his kingdom is like no other
a peaceful joy  
time to greet