Three decades back,
A communist,
As a fad atheist,
To my chagrin
You taught us
"God doesn't exist!"

To my surprise
After mass
I saw you yesterday
Kneeling down
Hands upward
Wholeheartedly when
You Pray.

Out of His mercy
And benevolence
No doubt
God will forgive you
At once,
For what matters
Is your repentance.

But  I can't help to ask
What will be the fate of
Of those credulous children
At their formative years
You sent off the track
Without a mental map
To return back?

Don't shut your eyes.
Give no volunteer.  
They will speak for themselves,
fall over your cheeks,
and mirror your pupils,  
as they roll back,
pulling your conscious with them. Hesitating only enough to leave it behind. But consciousness is always best
kept at the border.
If you find you've been left with enough
to remain alert,
by then, you will be dreaming.  
A distorted image
of prominent conversations,
or any notions with the significance
of being sufficiently alien.
The narcotic superlative,
naturally expressed.
God's allegory of home,
fully understood,
only by those
who discovered it deeply enough
to make it a reality.
But I had always been a skeptic.

I was told that god
Is the father for the
Fatherless
Well, he has a lot in
Common with my father
Because, they both
Abandoned me when
I needed them the most