I don’t find answers in your faith,
But you do.
And maybe we can go on living like that.
Maybe I can stop sneering at your traditional ways
and you can keep from the thought that I worship the devil.
For I’ll need faith for that.
If you find peace,
You head bent over in front of idols,
Books and shrines.
Mountains and rivers.
Fire and the sun.
I am but a blot on another dot,
In a cosmic space that boggles my mind,
And I tried faith to give me the hope that
There still was some hope left for us.
I am but moving towards death like you,
Trying to avoid the inevitability,
Trying to make sense in the truth that,
I am not worse off than you.
I have seen you shrug and brush off a tragedy as
The will of the Lord,
And resign to the cajoling that,
In the end,
The faithful ones shall attain redemption,
While I’ll be queueing up at the gates of hell.