To search your beginning said they,
would be a mortal sin to me,
but could my brain stop pondering?
as everyone has its beginning?
the questions remains a mystery,
and would be passed as legacy.
Called by someone as ingratitude,
in this boldness of my attitude,
how could the humanity blame me?
when they too wish the truth to be,
I realized I've done the hardest quest,
for the mystery is kept in secret crypt.
How the creation of Him intrigue me,
no traces of pattern in my eyes could see,
the wonder disturbs my mind,
such feeling was too felt by most blind,
but such wonder gives me at last a peace,
and heart celebrates a great feast.
Down I was several times,
carrying so much yoke,
friends so close get lost,
love ones turn in another coast,
suddenly a voice echoes on board,
the miraculous presence of the LORD! .
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.