Truth seems to be owned by everyone, or so it is lived out.
Something inward, subjective, ones own against all others.
What is thought…. is truth, or what is perceived, is obvious.
Ones religion, political party, or lack of, both are embraced tightly,
A fortress against all others who dare to think or believe otherwise.
God is like a spider living in the corner of one’s bedroom,
Small, figured out, books used to buttress ones position,
Holy writ, philosophers, men of science, used are perhaps abused,
Building up higher and higher walls to protect ones truth against the others.
We can drown in surety, causing havoc in a world already gone mad,
Our religions lead to idolatry, cheap god’s in our image and likeness,
Urging us on to fight for the light, using darkness as a means to a bloody end,
Innocents destroyed; children, the only ones pure, are slaughtered for truth.
A circle of true believers joined by true non-believers pointing fingers,
Perhaps raising clenched fist against all others, for a just and good cause.
The earth drunk on blood, bodies torn asunder all for the sake of truth;
Meanwhile the crippled, lame, those mentally destroyed multiply rapidly.
Being one with my brothers and sisters, the human race, I also sink.
At times drowning, dragged down into irrational insanity, struggling to surface.
In time only to sink again, the battle renewed with my own inner demons,
Archetypal gods of war, often seeking to supplant what Love has sown freely.
Moloch demands his sacrifice, hungry for the blood of children, women and men,
Killed, murdered, raped, in the name of truth and justice never achieved,
An endless cycle of death and destruction, like a snake eating its own tail,
Devouring itself in an orgy of hatred, rage, revenge and violence, unending.
One day backed into a corner, nowhere to run, or slogans to shout,
No verses from holy books to fling, or philosophies, or science to pontificate,
Surrounding only by what we see, naked truth before us without mercy,
Perhaps then the human race will be open to the grace offered, the cycle ended.
Or perhaps not, the world just an insane asylum, a place where the eternal return rules,
Always ending up in the same place, boring in its regularity, its absurdity,
The snake gorging itself with its own tail, hungry, all consuming, mindless,
Then one day it will end, peace at last for a troubled earth, when we are no more.
Jesus wept.
