Every morning, when i arise
Always in my hearts, are the many questions
This i carry, from child,
And now that i am a man;
After eating, and even for the joy of
Waking after slumber
Whom do i give thanks to?

To a God, i was born and raised existed,
Even yet u have not encountered him
Nor' to the universe which dim it fit
Of my importance.....
For i know a God.

I know a god with eight arms
I know one who seems omnipresent
I know one who speaks through books
Another who speaks only in waters
There is another who neither speak nor listen

But i must pay obeisance to only one
For the others would be jealous of my soul
Each followers claiming originality
If they see this: they tag me frenemy
For they are first my friends, before their creeds
Turn them against me, and humanity
So they lost the touch.

My father never gave me the answer before
His death, on a Sunday morning; but he taught
Me to be a man.
I carry this same question now that i am old
For whom do i give thanks to, after each breathe
After each gulp,
All the gods available are imported
The one, after my color and race is painted diabolical
So i carry my questions to the grave