The Sanctum of Sanity

Even Now

  
Even now,

the fascination of the faith is here,

but, how to tear oneself away?

The way began amid the myths.

simplified to suit the kids

supplied with only simple dreams.

And, for a while

the mendacious smile

of a Calvinistic style,

impressed us to be good,

and do what must be done,

to provide us with the billionth

part of sunshine which God decreed

was all we needed to survive.

Alive?  We’ve managed that.

All we’ll require to keep factory fires burning,

or; in turning, all the energy we’ll ever need

to feed the coming cries of new born ‘whys’

to perpetuate the fate of all the small

and silent men, who’ve no idea when

their day will dawn.

To spawn for centuries

the children of small comfort,

and, deliver their tall thought

into the bought and tainted hands

of panders to negation, that

the Reformation profits brought.

The child’s caught desires,

sometimes can refute

the profitable pyres.

Purchased by suppression

of their growing pain.

Which darkly dwells

within the cells,

of each quick and able brain.

Again, and yet again,

the story’s told,

to unfold the 'Christian Myth’ to children,

when all they can achieve,

is leave the gift of toil,

lest their aspirations spoil

the red and fertile soil

which favours few with fortunes.

And opportunes the rest, and rarely blest

to fester; angry in a future sold

by spinners of the most,

corrupting story ever told.

© James Rainsford 2012.

Note to readers: Posted as my contribution to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. Your comments are very welcome.