Quiet Indifference Of The World
2019 01 03
Kneeling in the empty cathedral nave,
late afternoon while birds twitter in trees,
he palms his hands before large crucifix
with Jesus bleeding as he stares at Heaven.
Bowing his head, he closes his eyes tight,
then breathes deep incense-scented air of hope,
and tries to feel himself open to light
of the blazing sun like vast boundless plains.
"Supreme God, Lord over Heaven and Earth,
send your spirit from glowing clouds of Heaven
and fill my empty heart with your sweet love
so I may feel the beauty of your truth.
I often feel the absence of your spirit,
but our priest, wise servant of your good word,
tells us that you are everywhere in space,
so I seek to feel glory of your power.
I open my heart to your presence, yet
I cannot feel your spirit in my heart,
so I repent of all my evil sins,
hoping you will favor me with your love.
I want to feel your power fill my frail body
so I become one with your universe
and comprehend true nature of your spirit
that blazes brighter than the sun at dawn."
Opening his eyes, he looks around hall,
large dim-lit space enclosed by walls of stone
under arches that loom high toward the sky
like interlacing branches of tall trees.
Strange timeless sense of infinite expanse
presses downward on his quick-beating heart
with aching horror of vast nothingness
that shimmers in quiet unchanging air.
"Where are you, God of Heaven?" he shouts loudly
at silent shadows of the empty hall,
then winces at slurred echo of his voice
that reverberates into ominous fear.
"I begin to suspect I am alone,"
he mumbles in surprise, "because I feel
no electric sense of some divine presence
charging my body with generous love.
I feel nothing in cathedral of air
except shudder of my own beating heart
that pulses from emptiness of the world,
so I am alone in vastness of time.
I have prayed to empty air all my life
because my father and the church priests claimed
immense god of supernatural power dwells
everywhere so I can call him for help."
Standing up slowly, knees sore from stone floor,
he stares all around the vast empty hall
where sunlight streams slanting onto wood pews,
and feels strange illusion vanish at blink.
Jumping up and down in sudden wild rage,
he screams wordless blasphemies at walls,
then runs circles around the empty nave,
howling like wolves enchanted by moonlight.
"God is no more real than the air I breathe,
and God is no more real than empty space
of nothingness between stone walls of truth,
so God was invented by feverish minds.
I want to ask, why should I follow rules
proclaimed by priests to be the Word of God,
but priests made those rules to make us obey,
so I will make my own rules of behavior.
I never want to perform any act
that will hurt or kill any other people,
not because unreal God proclaimed that law
but because I want people to feel good.
If there is no God, there is no afterlife,
so I want to help people stay alive
since this hour of conscious awareness glows
bright with intense desire to taste more pleasure."
Turning his face away from crucifix,
he walks outside into afternoon wind
listens to birds twitter in rustling trees,
and feels sunlight glowing on his pale skin.
Gazing up into the fast empty sky,
he feels quiet indifference of the world
billowing around him in wind and light
that connects his mind to the universe.
#Poem #Poetry #ArtOfPoetry #HistoricalFiction #AmWriting #DailyPoem #Faith #Religion #Christianity #God #Heaven