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Yes, my inquiring old friends, we all came from a tiny seed,

That same inglorious story to be told all around the universe.

Our ancestors were all just single-celled, origins unanimous,

Are to be found as a likeness, in the oceans, each so diverse.

H2O, standing for our own watery base, Dihydrogen monoxide,

Two hydrogen atoms in being so bonded to one oxygen atom.

Representing one grand molecular configuration, that of water,

Native America's own water sign, wavy parallel lines, verbatim.

A need to know, making our reasoning seem to be so justified,

But, old pal, there's just but one small catch to any such phrase.

There has to be an origin to it all, that creative agent, specified,

The maker of an atom, a defining source, that gifter of our days.

Who is God, What may God be, a question, one mystery forever,

Perhaps great explosions of the truth, to be solved, are so clever.

One entity, clad in all religiosity, representing the best explanation,

The thing that counts, the answer surmounts, a ubiquitous ovation.


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