There’s a boy in a room.
It’s a cavernous room,
With the walls all festooned
With the likenesses of
Sincere and humble, pious faces.
It’s a cavernous room,
With the walls all festooned
With the likenesses of
Sincere and humble, pious faces.
The eyes were watching,
Intently so.
Suspiciously watching,
But they weren’t the eyes
Of some omniscient, single, potent being.
They were the eyes of my fellow man,
And oh the things they did see.
By design or by fate,
From the boy grew the man,
And believing in magic,
Drew his comfort from what
They said was his faith;
Faithful.
All those around him
And the vast majority believed
In it too,
So much resembling dependent infancy
I shudder. Shudder!
As a product of his time,
And of nurture, it appears,
He pushed on where his intellect
Showed him how to proceed
Without any invasive deities.
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