I am thinking of becoming Bahá’í
Nailing my dreams to the sky
While the summer sun is high!
To blindfold my skin, in community
Lost in the darkness, our bodies would reach
Another gentler humanity
But Krishna was lost somewhere
On the edge of time, like folklore
Like summer yawning with orphans serene
And the miracles we secretly wait for
I’m losing why I must thank you, world
For being alive, I am thinking of converting
To religion, simply for human convenience
Which means I’m still left with pure longing
Secret arrangements of the necessity of God
And the luxury of our opera of history books
Somebody is smiling with independence
Beyond the myths, I’ve been a historian
Watching you sleep, as if all of my life.
I like this alot. Though not religious at all, I believe in the power of myth to not simoply explain to the mind but to expand it to another consciousness. On the other hand I am jaded by my non-beliefs. But your poem, and I will need to reread it a few times has a very lucid quality of exploration to it which I admire. Be well.>KB
Neither am I religious, but atheism is not very fulfilling, is it? So what shall we do about secular nihilism, it just stings.
That is why poets began writing about other things besides god or the gods–takje your pick, because there were so many things in the world whose existence was irrefutable and beautiful at the same time. There is mystery in that beauty and that is the truth we seek.>KB
You can find myths everywhere, they are present all through human history and many are still here with us, like Jack in the Green, as you posted this on the first of May.