I wonder about destruction, summoned
with the tongues of ecclesiastic’s adoration
while they bind ancient memories into
nightmares, without deigning to consider
any other form of godliness or worth.

I’ve wondered about ‘original sin’,
why it’s never been ordained a god,
or papal-ed with pomp and ceremony,
or buried in the dust of this planet,
where it belongs, with original flesh.

I’ve always been suspicious of speciousness,
fellator fabrications and godhead builders.
Cathedrals, towers, kneeling, bowing,
in essence, to a ‘God’. But, which God?
The God of Love? Of War? Of Peace?
No. I think we bow before the image
of ourselves, as we could be.

I’ve been thinking about the release of realism.
Whose perception creates reality? God’s?
Or, ours… Fidelity has a price when betrayed
by faith-leaders, when nailed to an existence
boundaried by ideals without the grace
of understanding factual flexibility
combined with efflorescing concepts
starts, and ends, with a Big Bang.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 2/2/05