When this digital dark age passes
and smartphone screens go dead
we shall all return to vibrant life
and think upon what is said
We shall look up, toward vast horizons
recalling dimly-lit square centimeters of data
finger-scrolling memories in the afterglow.
We shall again behold the reach of sky
from the mouths of our caves and pit-houses.
We shall know the Creator as well as the Creation.
We shall communicate.
Religion, you harlot and opiate of the masses
I smell the stagnation you bring upon earth.
Gold becomes lead, in stained roseate glasses
diluting, corrupting, negating its worth.
Hierarchical structure and pseudo-anointing
seem holy— but prove antithetic to Christ
whose transparently sure apostolic appointing
began a new age, and sufficed.
I renounce you, religion; your temples lie fallen . . .
the future arises from ruins, ever new.
Mere human unrighteous momentum must stall
when the truth spins around into view.
He was scorned, he was vilified; slain for your sin
Abrahamic philosopher, healer and friend
yet perceived as demoniac right to the end.
His beginning is here in your heart. Never fear:
Dead religion must perish for true love to win.
Hermeneutics imploding—His coming is near
.
The Sovereign reigns on high
enthroned behind the sky;
Aware of our distressing woe
He oversees the tragic show
as lies with bullets fly.
Unmoved, he sees the dead
beholding him in dread;
unable to reverse their course
their being severed from its source
aware of what’s ahead.
The judgement never ends
although we miss our friends
who never yielded unto grace
and now must read upon Christ’s face
a message that offends.
