I envy the faithful

Those who have a sense of belonging
Those who believe there is meaning and
trust there is no end to this life.

I envy the warmth

Those who feel secure within this world
Those who fear nothing and have everything
planned out for them.

I envy the idea

That there is some cosmic parent
Watching over, loving unconditionally, and
wrapping their believers in a soft, wool blanket.

And there are moments
When I can no longer endure my own existence
Where I hope and I pray and I bargain and I wish
to any greater entity that might hear my whispers in the night

Please just make the pain stop.

There's nothing warm or cozy about contemplating
your own meaningless oblivion,
or realizing you will never again see your dead
friends, family, or pets in a land filled with milk and honey.

I have no comfort in believing
I am special in some cosmic way
I am nothing, you are nothing
sinner, saint, priest, or atheist – we all just become food for the worms.