opinion@dailylobo.com
I am a word imbued with power
To get things done, and make men cower.
On your sphere of land and sea
Each of you has heard of me.
Yet most of you have twisted views
Of what I represent;
With feeble squeak and heart grown weak
Or hatred, outward sent.
Some men tremble with conviction
Of my vengeful disposition,
Feel more astute, and resolute
When faith in me is absolute.
Some yell my name, elicit fame,
While others choose to doubt
That certitude is rectitude
Reserved for those who shout.
You who ponder my existence
Do three things — at my insistence
So that vacuous assertion
Not be blamed for soul’s desertion.
We first agree — if I’m to be,
That I provide an afterlife
Appealing, divine ecstasy,
Provided you don’t cause me strife.
Next on the list, that I insist
This question of whether I care
If you believe in me or not,
Matters a lot — hope that seems fair.
Now this last one is quite tricky:
Allow killing? Always risky!
More so, when you invoke my name
Chaos ensues — the same old game.
Now that we’ve gone over the rules,
Let’s contemplate implications.
Don’t want to be one of the tools
Misled in these situations.
Whether you look in a good book
Or think for yourself all the time,
Four possibilities it took,
Condensed in logic — so sublime.
You gain reward for loyalty
Or vindictive retribution.
Granting my credibility
Determines your absolution.
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If I be a shrewd parody —
Avaricious designed intent
Used to control everybody —
The image of, man kindly lent.
Then the circumstances are changed,
For this means that you’ve made the
choice
To let your mind be rearranged
Unless you speak, with your own voice.
You rattle swords, send out fodder
Too naive to sense their slaughter
As you subjugate your conscience
And invest your faith in nonsense.
With a sumptuous conjecture
Often experts of nothing teach,
And with an eloquent lecture
Reality’s moved out of reach.
Would mothers their leaders implore,
Seek for answers not found in war,
Intolerance, not cause offense
With insistence, of my presence.
The chance you’re right is two in four
Though one thing is for sure
Noble enigma — thought before
Has not brought you a cure.
For the trouble man’s created
Apocalypse might strike a chord
With blood lust unsatiated
Depravity — a raging horde.
But this is clear, from what I’ve said
If I am not — your hope is dead
No matter how much blood is shed
Future depends on you instead.
Recognize your predilections
Trapped in all these contradictions
Tragic visions, ancient fiction
Consumed by hate and suspicion.
And as you seek to vanquish foes
Your enemy in sight,
While you may he quickly dispose,
You’ll face a bigger fight.
For you have torn Earth asunder
In your most arrogant blunder.
As stewards, you’re incompetent
My patience with you has been spent.
