with my discarded faith
faithful friends, will you confess
to which you would tear your shadow:
to know there never was a god
or to know your prayers transmit as white noise*

faithful i know they will remain
as for friends, well, i do not really know
so i never asked, nor ever will  

still, it awes me of the human condition
to worship and seek portents of blessings
whose arrival the faithful rationalize
as happening on some holy time table and line
instead of the chance and probabilities
like let’s say of winning the lotto mega jackpot  

i have read persons proclaim
after having missed the bus or plane
that afterwards fell to a ravine or mountain
of how divine was the intervention  

i wanted to shake their hands
they must have been so special
to be saved, blessed and loved
while hundreds were ******.