Far too many sun ups have passed me by

On clouds of melancholy mist

Truth abandoned in the fog of words

Clouded memories lost or forgotten

To become fairy tales and folklore

History casts an ominous shadow

Ghost bones begin to rattle a beat

Softly the voice of Satan coaxed

Whispering gossip from the time beginning

Come and see Lord what we have made thee

 

What hath our religion become?

Murmurs of behavioral reason

Treat those as thy would thyself

Unless they are considered less

Abominations in the eyes of ourselves

What can’t be defined we must condemn

Before it reveals us for what we truly are

Babes swaddled in the cloth of hypocrisy

Eyes unable to see yet fit to judge at will

Sanctimonious visions of how life exists

 

Whispers written in a book called truth

Scribed from the days of opulent lies

The rules of life with answers so simple

Yet too complex to include the disparate

Designed to assuage the guilt of our conscience

In the name of all we have yet to understand

So soothing to bathe once in a week

In the baptismal waters of deceptions

Reading but not following his rules of conduct

The holy book of truth as told through whispers