Lament of the Faithless
Even the heathen is blessed,
Lamenting the loss of stability and certainty.
Observation is the obverse of faith
In all matters of eternity; and the universe.
Eventually I and all will come to naught
Least of all unnecessary battles sought, fought and lost.
Obsidian will be the obfuscated secrets
Inherent in this humanity.
Long ago, before the liacised labours of
A man could be manifest in marvelous miracles of
Manifold truths held
Against the auguries of ancient oracles felled,
Such views could not be veiled in truth
About this blind vision of all that is good,
Buttressed by the folly of youth.
Alone a man may fight the demons of his mind
Cajoled into the myth that life and love combined,
Have the power to unhinge the most stable psyche.
Teetering on the precipice of abject terror
He has but to acknowledge his error to
Attain better understanding. But this is
Not for me, or my fellow men. Dear Lord,
If only I could believe once again.