Dust In The Wind

I gave up on all sorts of invisible things
Those that have pots of gold are included
Also are those fairies that have dust on their wings
They all seem cute nonsense, I’ve concluded

I worship no god that threatens me or a child
There are no angels coming down to earth
Intentions failing to become human and wild
Swelling with demons without any mirth

Jack had his giant and Cinderella her godmother
As we grow we cast these aside these silly myths
Our aging makes us wonder why we ever did bother
Yet innocent they didn’t threaten us with scythes

It seems that religions always have rules that bind
twisting our thoughts to form ancient morals
A lack of thought will work on the weak human mind
Ancient guesses before holy chorales

Always searching for answers yet to be decided
We made up solutions along the way
With a little of nature randomly provided
Until when intelligence had its say

Yet only the gods that were written and chosen
Kept their beliefs through a constant repeat
Passed along by stories to keep our thoughts frozen
Modified and altered to keep them neat

Fairies pass along and fade with the gods of Thor
The tiniest and largest wisps of thought
Abandoned as silly or wrong, believed no more
But only those that the religions taught

By repetition and by fear they grew and stayed
Threats and redundancy were forcefully kept
Until the traditions and holiness were made
With hell as a guide while we silently wept

As we go along with the odd dictates of man
Who told us mostly what we wanted to hear
A silly deniable, enforceable plan
For a god who doesn’t exist for our tears.

Barbara Blackcinder


About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a hunger for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and especially mine when you read those from me.
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