A perfect being has no clothes

…..I am what I am, isn’t an answer, it sure ain’t no cure for cancer, our time on earth has been a disaster, it seems like we’re dying even faster then death can transfer, where’s the master, I’ve grown tired of the pastor; we need to learn faster, too much to learn and not enough time to master, if wisdom is described as a female, it’s time to cast her, before mankind figures out how to trash her.  Is the perfect being mean, or are we misreading his masters. Were the shamans shamans, were the prophets prophets.. the writings on scrolls are so old they messing with my optics; the truth has become so microscopic, it’s an old topic, I think it’s true origins lays somewhere in the tropics, mankind is from the womb not the cradle, who made you is an interpretation of what made you.