Kingdom come

can one contemplate forever
forever is the eternal plain
a distance without punctuation
unending since creation began
a horizon so unimaginable
constant as the wearing of time
to tread upon it finds no end
a soul decays on the journey
relief in acceptance of the trial
the testing of a human shell
watched weighted and valued
the worth only in forgiveness
there is so much that is lost
so many drop into the abyss
that purgatory of damnation
souls used and used and used
learning until they are ready
until they know the meaning
of life and its immutable cycle

©2012, Donald Harbour

Religious titration

Through the great fog,
That mist that grows,
As a bunion upon
An unattended toe,
There is a modicum
Of truth.
A dollop of fanaticism,
The opiate.
A cut upon the jugular,
Of reality.
Prostrate before an altar,
That will not alter,
Humanity’s struggle
With belief in the hereafter,
Is the sin of the present,
And a prosecution
Of all of life’s beauty.
In the words of the clerical,
We are damned sinners.
It is the ugly side
Of religion.
Fear is control,
Salvation the fish and bread,
To feed the multitudes.
To follow is to support,
To give is to purchase a place
In dissipated vapors,
Hymns, candles, edifices,
Streets of gold,
Though the streets are paved
With the centuries of blood.
Believe as I do,
Accept my god, or
I will kill you.
Quaint, isn’t it?

© 2011, Donald Harbour