In darkness, a church
of carved Baroque stone
catches me walking
unawares and alone.

Two stone hands reach out
from the church outer wall.
A gesture of blessing
or a prayer for us all

in stony carved silence
that echoes the voice
of a God we can’t hear,
who stays quiet — by choice?

Just when we need
to hear they’re right here,
they feel like a veiled cloud
that is more distant than near.

Still these outstretched hands
remind me of this:
Divine’s in the touch
of human hands’ godlike gift.

drop of blood in fire,
trickles down the flame - loyal;
the covenant grins.

The Master of Chaos sat all alone
on top of his almost invisible throne
and looked out into the dark and saw
that nothing could be seen at all

He said to himself, 'I'll make a light,
and put an end to this horrid night.'
as he sat there in his muted fright,
not knowing what was wrong or right

He flicked his finger; a flame flickered and flashed
and formed a faint figure in the infinite abyss
But he looked and saw still nothing at all
the darkness stood an impenetrable wall

Now at this time his anger grew
In place of the terror that he knew
As into the flame he spat and cursed
'How could my lot be any worse?'

A speck of his spittle then sputtered and sparked
And for a short moment a bubble there arced
In midst of that moment the Master thought quick
'To place all my power this point I will pick!'

Now pinpricks of light in the bubble appeared
And at their minuteness the Master then jeered
But one of those pinpricks the Master gave birth
Was an almost invisible one we call Earth

And onto its surface, as if as a joke
Some self-moving somethings to being he spoke
On one race of somethings he blasted his breath
But showed them no notion of darkness or death

Their ignorant bliss would not have long to live
As the Master was happy a dilemma to give
'Ignore your incorrigible longing to know
Or soon into darkness your heart I will throw!'

These somethings could not help their curiousness
And soon brought an end to their innocent bliss
They looked on the Master; in horror recoiled
And from that time forward in terror they toiled

In spite of this, certain determined to show
Their thanks to the place whence creation did flow
'The Master-- He made us. We owe Him our all.'
And so on the name of the Master they call

Now one such, a brother, got gifts from above
In contrast, the other heard nothing of love
In the depths of his being resentfulness grew
And soon into darkness his brother he threw

The boy's broken body returned to the Earth
And then did the living remember their worth
But the Master saw fit to deliver a curse
'For who kills the killer, it's seven times worse!'

But a spark of naivety still wasn't quenched
Even while all the old had their souls from them wrenched
And though many people just followed their will
A few kept their view of a duty to fill

Time passing, the Master elected one man
To shoulder the burden of Life in his hand
'You're special. I choose you. Complete now this task.
Your family will be sole survivers at last'

'Now thus I command thee: construct a great Box
And I'll bring you each beast, from the ant to the ox
The Box will be shelter for two of each kind
In performing this promise leave not one behind!'

The whole population soon started to ask
At the purpose and point of this puzzling task
But finding no answer they started to jeer
Not aware of the fate that was drawing so near

The Box was completed, the Chosen inside
Along with the beasts that had come to reside
And now that the plan had been put all to use
The Master was ready his hatred to loose

The Master broke open the fountains on high
And the wells of the Earth overflowed to the sky
These terrible torrents fast flowing like tears
Erased all the faithless, with their hopes and their fears

But the Chosen were safe in the place that He gave
Even while all the others were sent to the grave
The Box remained buoyant for many a week
Till at last the Box landed upon a tall peak

The Master, now sated, declared to them thus:
'I never again shall devour with such lust
To each of all people who call on my Name
I'll lend preservation in spite of their shame'

A new generation now came to arise
That as they grew great grew exceedingly wise
They said to themselves, 'Let us build us a tower
And none shall compare to our glory and power'

The tower they built soon grew stunningly high
As the people then strove to reach even the sky
But the Master grew weary of this hubris of man
And as was His habit, He schemed a new plan

All people till now had had only one speech
That would grant understanding to learn and to teach
Thus people were able to work and create
With clear understanding to cooperate

The Master decided confusion to sow
And quickly construction then started to slow
Words became strange, understanding was gone
And with it ability to all get along

The people were fractured. They couldn't agree
And factions then found it expedient to flee
From then on the people began to spread out
And make their own places to worry about

Now the Master saw fit to commit to a choice
To limit the living who witness His voice
And even the Chosen, of which there were few
To each He provided a separate view

But still in each part He was greatly extolled
And tales of His terrible doings were told
Destruction of cities; Affliction of men
The only beginning; The ultimate end

i do not believe
in gods or devils,
but guilt whispers
their names to me
anyway.

a hymn of
you should have been better
plays in my chest,
and i hum along,
even though
i do not know the words.

God is spoken about as a loving, senile creature. He is seen as forgiving, gentle, and generous.

As a man, God is a furious fire, burning in the image of sin and pain. As a man, God is punishing and unrelenting.

I've never loved God as a man. All he has ever shown me is what he forbids, taunting what he does not allow in my life as a light to a fly.

He leads me to what he speaks of as my own demise. If temptation is my own fault, what does that say of the man that lead me there? Would that not make him similar to the serpent that tempted eve? To the very force he claims to fight?

I find god in the very things he prohibits. If we see god as an ideology full of love, thankfulness, and happiness, it finds its way into everything God, the man, hates and punishes.

I feel god in the love the man behind it disallows so strongly. I feel god in the yearning and adoration that God, the man, so strictly banishes as immoral.

I feel god in every word I've said to someone I love, the compliments and curses.

I feel god in their every reply, the way they show they care in their own way, carries god from them to me.

God, the man, has always picked apart these phrases for every word, dissecting them for transgressions against Him. He has always controlled who or what my cares are for.

Every crime I've committed against God has helped me find god in its fulfillment, in the enjoyment and love I gain in it.

Every time I feel love, it's a love that God is so strongly against.

The love I give and receive is so divine that maybe God is unable to see it for anything other than sin. Maybe God knows that he never could have designed a love so dedicated and seraphic.

God knows he can't see love so angelic, so he dismisses it as evil.

One spirit
One voice
In him rejoice

One light
One way
His love won’t stray

All you’ve got to do is surrender
Put all your plans aside
Let the masterful creator
Lead and be your guide

One dream
One hope
His strength to cope

One word
One phrase
To sing his praise

All you’ve got to do is surrender
There’s no better time than this
Made in the image of the one true God
Open up, don’t resist

One spirit
One voice
In him rejoice

One light
One way
His love won’t stray

Our ways are not the same as his
He’s not looking for perfection
Rest in the Father’s hands

One spirit
One song
In him we belong

One hope
We pray
For salvation one day

Days drift toward oblivion, as existence bears down upon the cosmos,
consuming us whole— we are a titan sculpted from the remnants of
lost souls, thriving in a vineyard of despair. These obsidian cherry
desires, weeping with the rain, and these lips, forged from the same
flesh, cry out in fervent prayers. “Lord, give us this day,” we plead,
yearning for the sustenance of daily bread. In the shadow of poverty,
joy fades into silence; in sorrow, we hear the haunting echoes of our
shared lament among the trees. In the pools of our sorrow, we gaze
upon untainted skin, the glimmering droplets mirrored in the water.

A miracle bestowed is akin to the sweetness of a first kiss; delicate
and fleeting — as we love holding our breath in anticipation of
another, yet failing to voice our true needs. Yet, life wears us down,
gathering us like discarded clothes— material smiles; we have
devoured the richness of our cherry desires, leaving only a handful
of barren stems in our wake—had you not sought instead this Daily
bread?

But what does daily bread signify for you – the clinking of coins, the
allure of wealth, the visage of another, their utterances, or the depths
of their emotions? Could it be that what you seek is not the bread that
nourishes your soul?

I dictate others emotions, their luck, their fate,
When I have a good day—I destroy their lives,
When I have a bad day—they get to be happy,
God is playing a psychological game with me,
But I can’t figure out the rules.

I must sacrifice my own happiness for others,
I must martyr my mental health,
Jesus dying wasn’t enough for this sick God
He had to inflict more pain;
Something worse than physical,
Mental.

I am Sisyphus, punished.
I must forever take the burden of a meaningless task,
And why? Just because someone above me
Commands me to, I must obey.
I too cheated death—I got better,
I escaped God’s grasp. I healed.
And now I must live with the consequences,
Of knowing how it feels to be happy,
But being unable to.