My Sunday Thoughts are For the Young Alone

If your life is past the midway mark
You needn’t read a word beyond this line
I conjure here no solace sweet, divine
To shield against the certain coming dark…

I would not strip old lies and lay them bare,
So, grandpa, granny, wrap yourselves in dreams
Of angels,  bliss and pastel crackpot schemes.
With those still in their prime I’d rather share.

Affirming some negation is a snare
So for my meaning I would quite insist:
I do not say that god does not exist
But rather that the evidence is spare
[To say the least…!]

And further
That no tribe is right to claim exclusivity for their nanoworld concerning a creator of the infinite universe! Such claims are manifestly unjustifiable. And further That to say underneath we monotheists all agree is to be ignorant or willfully blind. Chaos, then is order not yet quite defined [I’d rather fruits of science than some tree!]

The universe runs likely on fixed laws
But laws are not the same thing as decrees
And you look stupid, chum, down on your knees.
Just stop and think: there really is no cause.

Of all the tricks of politics
Religion is the dirtiest scum
To promise joy in Kingdom Come
Or peace once you have crossed the Styx.
Joy and meaning are in the living
[with serious thought for those who follow]
In the giving and forgiving…
Sound every promise; reject the hollow.

 

 

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