The Question

Questioning the beliefs of some.

The Question

 

The preacher spoke in rapture

Of the duality of nature

From the foundations of his faith.

I'd speak to him a question

About his damned religion,

But it'd only make him irate.

I know this question's seething,

Pertaining to what we believe in

And how it all came about.

I can hear his angered breathing

And his constant state of screaming

As he will want to throw me out.

He'll rant and rage and ponder

At what makes me wonder

About the Bible, Christ, and God,

But what he doesn't realize

Is it's he that makes me scrutinize

When his beliefs are but a fraud.

When the sermon's finished,

He'll realize the questions banished

Are the ones that haunt the most,

But when he finds that sleeping

Is where those thoughts keep creeping;

His mind will play the host.

He will start deceiving

By the way that he's believing-

his preaching- to which the flock will come.

So, I'll sit here in this pew,

Wondering, but not knowing, what is true;

Pretending to twiddle my thumbs.

 

Legion

(18Mar91)

 

Reviews

[Gandré]

so the preacher didnt work out his own dillema ..he is amusing himself....so we are busy with introspections...and while we are doing this the universe is busy with itself, having great time... we are not the only observers, this is specialness. we stand in the centre of concentric circles being hypnotized by own speculations..these are parodies of life...everybody wants to be a prophet "listen to me! listen to me! look at me!" and most of them are weary baby-boomers reflecting on past glories...watching their skin shrivel...
hope all is well. thx for reading and words on Ergo Sum.

[Lizzy]

You'll probably win the contest. :)
An amazing, inspiring poem, indeed. Good job. Such an idea to ponder upon . . . . Hm . . .

[DeAn]

very cool indeed. definetly sums up the so called righteous attitudes of the pompous papacies.

very good poem ineed.