Do we pray if in the universe alone?
Are our hearts void prone?
Fill them with what our hearts make known.
For she knows, beautiful on the throne.
To her the universe and its nature was shown.
Her mind is her universe, her perceptive zone.
And everything around it, proof set in stone.
But be it so, from conscience desire we take a loan.
For many on points may agree, in our own little worlds we are lone.
For what does a God make but things to atone?
Only but victims to sanctification, deified backbone?
But she sees it, beyond our eyes and senses a capstone.
Our evils we disown
Our deeds we enthrone.
I cease to understand, this love gemstone.
I do what I think, and from it know what I feel.
For reality and it’s perceptions I know not the deal.
I know what it isn’t but not to it’s spiel.
For reality in a basket was packaged and sealed,
I know not the inscriptions, but I know their look and it’s seel.
For I take pride in my work, and to thank need I kneel?
Must I sacrifice the heart and the veal?
But it is in her heart, Jesus her hero.
Pointing out her path, in a linear arrow.
Predisposed and into it’s comfort borrow.
Change is menacing, of a ruthless bureau.
But look at the stars more clearly.
Must a human like being, put us here his villains to him and his son the Heroes?
But I feel scrutiny drawing nearer.
As my era of silence draws to a close, I must either rebel or cry “ditto.”
Worship is communalism, it is understood through a collective limbo.
They know some things are wrong but not why, and others mirror.
You cannot have it both ways, at night and in morrow.
Yet there she is, sleeping through sermons but claiming them thorough.
Perhaps she is afraid of a Godless sorrow.
Of those who drift too far, from morality they widow.
But morality is not in every deity.
Morality is Mortal and Ambiguity is Immortal.
Commands change, principles are idle, ideals and idol.
But inward, subjective observation reaches divinity.
I must let her know this, my Goddess.
She reminds me of humility, to love, my lord.
Her reminders of myself are divine.
And her arms are better than heaven.
What is of Satan but condemned from the moment of creation?
Love is the thing that reigns Almighty.
To others my wise sounding works I hope to bless.
And her and I, lovely we are not saints.
But Saints are of God, Ethnocentric to Abrahamic virtues.
Cut your *****, supply ****** no mercy.
**** your sons for your liege.
God is violent, Jesus is peaceful.
How must they agree? Let alone be the same person?
Love across the veil
Doubt only in these moments
“We pray to thee God.”
A kind of hot take on some things my Ex believed in, if you are not a fan of Religious commentary do not read.