To be Alive

Sulking fingers play
On shaky hands
The vile song of hate.
He breathes his fire,
Spouting fear with
Biggoted tongue.
He claims the “truth” resides
Among his yellowed paper
Of ancient script.
Those words, hateful words
Those meaning lost
Along the centuries of learning.
Oh I see, I see, it’s a terrible
Haze.
“Light” blinds, blinds through war, through fear, through hate.
But it’s only a book, an ancient tale about a man.
Have you forgotten?
Forgotten what it’s like to be human, head and mind,
Guts and blood, love and compassion.
No you live by a book of
Love causing hate.
Yes, I find it ironic, in a sad parental like.
You say your master sings love into your heart,
Yet you bicker and fight as starved puppies over a crumb of bead.
Arguing over his word, terrified of those who don’t agree.
And I fear,
I fear the end.
Not of this life,
But of humanity.
Of a connection to the world, as brother and sister.
Not through a book but through our lives. Through our love.
That is what it should mean to be alive

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