Dear God,

Even though life is meaningless

I still cry out to you.

Behind the theatre curtains

The orchestra has nothing to do.

I can’t find you hidden in atoms.

I can’t find me hidden in you.

The answers are always a mystery

It’s just easier not to do.

And when I’m doing nothing

A playful me appears.

I’ll sing and dance and fall in love

And always drink a beer.

I’ve given up the search for God.

I’ve given up for good!

I’m making choices every day

Without the fear of hell.

I broke the poem’s rhythm.

I broke the devil’s spell.

I broke the desire to drink and fuck.

I think I’m doing well.

But now I’m doing nothing

And again feel all at sea.

It’s back to all is meaningless.

So what is left for me?

A traveller I have always been

A travelling I must be.

The search for life rolls on and on

While death comes close to me.

Despite my lack of answers.

Despite my search for truth.

My philosophical leanings

Will find the golden tooth.

A terrible rhyme I must admit.

A terrible poet am I.

But still I always put pen to paper

And always question why.