I put a bucket out, 'cause I was told that it was raining oxtail soup.
I meant to catch me some of that delicious, nourishing gloop.
But my pail did not fill up with what they told me that it oughta.
When I checked it, it was sadly full of nothing but rainwater.
Some say the human head contains a god-shaped, spiritual void,
Into which the Truth will pour, and we'll be overjoyed.
But if a hole exists—and you can believe that if you will—it
Doesn't mean a god's the thing we should propose to fill it.
I'm quite prepared to believe that we do, indeed, poetically speaking, have such a void; a consequence of our apparently universal curiosity about the world, how it came to be and what our place in it is. Call it a knowledge-shaped void. Don't assume, though, that any old random explanation, such as "God did it," is the correct explanation, merely because it happens to fill the hole. Keep in mind that such a hole could be filled by many ideas, not all of them worthy of the label "truth." That gods, like oxtail rain, no matter how much we might want them to fill our knowledge-shaped bucket, might be nothing but wishful thinking.
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