Religion is belief, they say.
All goodness and virtue,
Stifling rituals and customs,
traditions which I blindly carry on;
which have as many stories of origin
as the count of webs a spider may weave.
An idol, a statue, a name, a form,
a stone, a label, an obligation.
Do I believe in this belief?
Do I have faith in the chants,
the hymns and praises you sing of divinity?
Who witnessed the epic wars of right and wrong?
Who decides what my belief is?
Who defines my ideals and virtues?
Why should I submit to hearsay,
which turns stones into gods,
and humans into demons and
makes questioning blasphemous.
Gods who must be adored, adorned
praised and definitely feared,
but who live by a twisted unwritten code;
of pain and misery being a settling of old scores.
Why must I pacify and feed an unseen ego
tempted with empty promises of death
being better than life itself?
Why is any deviance branded sacrilege?
Why am I lesser human than prophets and godmen?
Why must I have a religion, why should I need a god?
Why must I abide by someone else’s beliefs
and not just the code of humanity?
Was Lucifer turned into satan- “evil”
because he refused to dress up with the halo and wings?
burntbutteredtoast 