...the chaotic my thoughts are

The soul of man Resembleth water: From heaven it cometh,

To heaven it soareth.

And then again To earth descendeth,

Changing ever.

Down from the lofty Rocky wall

Streams the bright flood,

Then spreadeth gently

In cloudy billows

O'er the smooth rock,

And welcomed kindly,

Veiling, on roams it, Soft murmuring,

Tow'rd the abyss.

Cliffs projecting Oppose its progress,

Angrily foams it

Down to the bottom, Step by step.

Now, in flat channel,

Through the meadowland steals it,

And in the polish'd lake

Each constellation Joyously peepeth.

Wind is the loving

Wooer of waters; Wind blends together

Billows all-foaming.

Spirit of man, Thou art like unto water! Fortune of man, Thou art like unto wind!

J. W. von Goethe

I lke this poem by Goethe. In a way, though he believes more on the idea and concept of "man need no god", this poem to reflects to the opposite. I read it somewhere that to be free, one need to be confined - "The world is but a prison; death is the liberation".

Ironic isn't it?

Death sets us free. But then the question that arises is, by being dead, we would be incapble to do anything. So how could death liberates? The fun part about religion is that we are thought to have freedom within boundaries. We are thought to have and believe in hopes of a future time. To believe in the unseen. What we cannot touch nor feel entice us to experiment with the things in life.

We do good.

We do bad.

What will we reap? It depends on what we believe.