Fatalist

Though we later may walk

In a valley in a shadow of death

What should we logically fear?

Perhaps the complacent urge for a deity

To make us whole and guide us through

To fulfil an image that is cloudy at best

Where was the help previously

When appeals went unheard?

Huge effort expended in devotion

For nothing in return

Grimly clinging, predetermined

To prop up an image that is cloudy at best

Resigned rigid, predetermined

To covet a vision that is forced on the rest

Life becomes an exercise in cutting down your options

Existing becomes a joyless parade to the end

Life becomes a platform from which to attack free thought

Existing becomes a prison where self-discovery's forbidden

The fatalist

Any fool starting afresh would surely ditch this

After two-thousand years of schism

Only irreligious hearts can do the saving