Because we are as we are,
we still keep going.
It is because of evil,
that we yearn for divinity.
It is because of mistakes,
that we search for wisdom.
With perfection,
you have nothing to grow from.
With knowledge,
you have nothing to learn from.
When there is mystery,
there is an engine,
that drives,
and directs.
If everything was known,
then there'd be no reason.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem