Long before the start of time

when Gods sang in cosmic rhyme;

they sang of planets, me and you

then this world was born anew.

From cosmic dust it all began

according to their wondrous plan.

Then, in rhyme they spoke again;

spoke of wisdom, spoke of pain.

It is our choice who we will be:

lowly prisoner or one set free.

Each day we walk upon this land;

every step has been long planned.

The choice is ours, which way we go,

either way, is a cosmic flow.

This path is ours – ours alone

but its seeds were cosmic sown.

We choose each step that we do take;

the end result is ours to make.

It’s now up to us to choose,

do we win, or do we lose?