COMFORT IN THE IDEA OF GOD OR GOOD

i

Beginning my studies on the first world
Which I had been born, I looked to you
To teach me and greet me with Love

ii

That famous biography we both read
The Truth, of evolution and beginnings
God wasn’t something that came
To our minds naturally, we believed we believed

iii

In Him, like so many other artificial
Dead clarities, fictions invented by men
Like the need for war, dominance, superiority, patriotism

iv

I gave in to sense, to the consciousness in forms
To eyesight, appreciation of beauty
Imagination with music, hearing faith

v

In the sound of the rain, or the
Faint clues of why we had been born
So recently, into such a Chaotic order

vi

These objects of reward, and punishment were
Primal, the dopamine-switch inherently misguided
Anarchic, appearing at intervals of pleasure
The signal of ecstatic songs, the faces preferred
It all seemed a breach of our inherent liberty

vii

The idea that we were free, attachment was necessarily
A device of the character, the role, the animal
Not the soul or anything particularly noteworthy.