I live in a world of intolerant people Who insist their way is the best. Many say theirs is the only way; They totally reject all the rest. I always have had trouble with that, Saying their loving god hates; That their god would choose some to Leave standing hopeless at the gate.
I read the books that believers claim Will cleanse me and make me blessed. They verbally promise heaven to me If I but bend my knee and request Acceptance of a human turned into god For my personal and holy savior. It has always seemed to me to be A rather superstitious sort of behavior.
It smacks of me throwing salt around To promise myself the best of luck. Or avoiding stepping on any crack. Mumbo jumbo for which I have no truck. I read more than the books of religions To find out where the myth came from. I am now informed about the eucharist To know I don’t need a single crumb.
I don’t disparage those who believe Any more than those who wear copper To ward of arthritis and rheumatism. I’ve seen those beliefs come a cropper. Let others sing songs and nursery rhymes About golden streets and pie in the sky. I prefer reality in the here and now. I’m not a bit superstitious, no not I.