2017 01 24
Down in rolling hills among southern pines
where the brown Chattahoochee River flows
with thousands of strangers driving their cars
no one outside radio or church sings.
So many people maintain faith in God,
some supernatural deity from stars
invented by shepherds in the bronze age
to justify their rule as autocrats.
While walking endless roads throughout my life
I never saw this great omniscient God
except in virtual world inside my brain
generated from texts of ancient books.
Millions of people sea to shining sea
gather every seven days inside church
to sing about the king they hope returns,
praying that he will raise them all from death.
They bow their heads and pray to long dead king
that he will give them all eternal life
then transform our messy world full of pain
and suffering into perfect paradise.
To maintain this vain delusional faith
they gather every seven days in church
to pray to empty air with fervent hope
and sing hymns to keep illusions alive.
When I was twenty-one I walked outside
the bubble of illusion their faith beams
and breathed fresh air of indifferent sky,
rejoicing to feel glow of the real sun.
While feeling sadness that their hopes are vain
for eternal life in some perfect world,
I walk away alone on road of life
and leave them to illusions of their faith.
Alone on nameless road where no God reigns
I strum guitar and sing new melodies
that beam clear vision from my own bright brain
which guides my way through waste land of despair.
I love this messy world of pain and death,
my own true paradise of pulsing life,
and find this hour of awareness and love
my own eternal life of timeless bliss.