A lack of comfort never hurt nobody…much.

I’ve seen the end of life
more times than I can count.

although I often wish that were not true…

it’s nev­er easy -
Nei­ther is it pret­ty.

Because life tries!
Hangs on. Holds tight!

It works so hard to keep itself -
Burns bright!

Even at the very end,
when the flesh gives in.
Even then,
Life tries!

I do not seek com­fort
in fables or myths.
Would that I could.

Such suc­cor is not for me,
nor for many oth­ers like me -
We See!

Real­ly See, that is.
Too clear­ly, per­haps,
and too near the truth to find com­fort
in the false­hoods that keep so much of human­i­ty
pre­oc­cu­pied with belief,
no mat­ter how care­ful­ly con­struct­ed
or com­pelling.

Reli­gion is often more a func­tion of time;
and over­think­ing,
than it is truth.

I could take a ruse most base,
and replay it through a thou­sand gen­er­a­tions.
Build­ing it with sto­ries and praise…

And when it was over,
the world would cry and sing!
Sit in awe
of my inde­scre­tion!
See it now! See it! Believe it.

Humans are mal­leable, if noth­ing else!