Ask for a miracle, give everything
for nothing
Obsequious and fawning, call on the
gods, the ancestors serving with the empty hand
Make yourself holy, prepare the way,
mask your desire and cover your fear with ritual intention
Cast yourself to the wind, perform
with great flourish, and discover that god has abandoned you
The ancestors are dead, your
inheritance is only a faint impression inscribed in the cell
Their hunger is your hunger, made
real by your fear, your worship will not satiate it
Little gods of wood and stone, silent
idols like false memories of forebears we never knew
Pietas
is the enslavement
of the heart and mind, bound by the iron ring of symbol and tradition
Do you hear them speaking?
Listen closely, it is your own voice
you are hearing, justifying the path you set yourself on
Obeisance to religion, is fealty to
a fiction, a false piety that burns in bright colors on the altar
Listen, the way is one of humility, the relationships before you are the
entire world, let go
The past holds people in its rigid-grip,
with violence and a lust for life that will not be quelled
We cannot stay bound to it, led about
by phantom chains, bolted to the heart, break them apart
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