Divine Revelation in the September 11th Epic Poem

If God exists he might persist                                 
            In telling us himself.
But on our own it can’t be known,                                           
            Despite how hard we delve.
If there’s a chance our Maker grants
            A path to truth and grace,
We owe our sons and everyone’s
            To see if that’s the case.
 
But finding balms to cure our qualms
            Is hard for modern eyes.
The sacred texts of all the sects
            Are seen as earnest lies.
We cope with grief and disbelief
            While hurtling towards death.
One hundred years[10] of growing fears
            Have left us out of breath.
 
(Excerpt from Chapter 10)
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