Among the ones who look above and deeply feel a god of love,
I tremble but to think that they would sooner wait another day
For recompense for pain they’re in from having caused a daily sin.
What thoughts do they conveniently amend from grace most leniently?
To make oneself a better man in making sport a godly plan?
They are consumed by one desire, avoiding death in hellish fire.
They play the game of hopefulness when all they need is thoughtfulness.
The faith they feel is so ingrained they cannot see to what they’re chained
The oldest lie that humans hold, they simply do what they are told.
It saddens me this earthly quest to find the god that seems the best.
When all they ever had to do was look around with wider view.
They’d see that faith in outside source would only bring a weakened force.
Depending on a fallacy of death with some transcendency,
They look to something they know not and with their all they cast their lot.
What is this need to cast belief as if it were a soul’s safe reef?
What place has faith in shallow truth, what comfort in confessor’s booth?
Why stake their lives upon a lie? It’s only sky that is up high.
Why seek love beyond the parent when love from them is inherent?
Like a child they seek endorsement only known with some enforcement.
Why do they feel their prayers are heard? They might as well speak to a bird.
For faith in prayer is fallow hope, it only wields a way to cope.
The fact of faith is but a curse that churches use to tip your purse
So all will feel they did arrange a pardon in the false exchange
Of gaining virtue for a sum, but truth be told they did succumb.
So ask it not what it will cost, nor seek to find what isn’t lost,
For all one needs is there within to help us know we’re genuine
There never was a need to pray, for all were born in the same way
It doesn’t take a learned skill it only takes your own True Will.
© Lita-Luise Chappell
Originally published in “Daughters of Babalon Anthology, Volume 1”