Junkyard Of Religious Faith

Junkyard Of Religious Faith
© Surazeus
2025 05 08

Too often I have to remind myself 
that non-organic objects have no soul 
because my empathetic mind projects 
sense of consciousness onto cars and things, 
imagining with glow of jovial glee 
that they are happy when I use them well. 

The wrecked car I drove for twenty-four years 
lurks now in twisted agony of pain 
among other wrecked cars in muddy field, 
so I almost cry with sad aching heart 
to see it broken and abandoned so, 
though I know well that no machine can feel. 

With sly grin of melancholy amusement 
I imagine angel soul of my car 
spreading white swan wings of divine faith, 
and gliding up into Realm of Ideas 
to drive eternal concept of the Road 
as eternal concept of the Sedan. 

When I throw away the old frying pan 
that I had used to cook three thousand meals 
of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and sausages, 
I pause one moment with sharp twinge of guilt 
to see it gaze at me with forlorn eyes 
like some abandoned puppy in the woods. 

Tangled in domestic quietude 
of melancholy sorrow for lost things, 
I decide that I will not change my life, 
nor learn some lesson from epiphany 
that I project emotions of my heart 
on inanimate objects with no minds. 

The moral values of social respect, 
which animate how I perform my role, 
remain intact despite intense attacks 
by fearful minions who seek to oppress 
my free spirit with bitter thought control 
by breaking my sense of reality. 

Because I employ science-based techniques 
to cultivate theories that describe truth, 
which I expand as I analyze facts, 
my mind can perceive what is real or not, 
so I quote formulas of verbal codes 
describing nature of reality. 

When people with no empathy attempt 
to assert control over how I live, 
I see them like the wrecked car of despair 
lurking in junkyard of religious faith, 
and turn away to leave them lost in fear 
since they will never follow light I bear.