The Silent Gospel.

Religion is faith constrained to language
An attempted capture of something uncageable

We know the stories
The histories of bygone antiquities
Crucifixes and parted seas
Deluges and holy wars
But have we ever stopped to question the fullness of this picture?
If this painting of a certain history is without blank spaces?

These stories portray themselves as infallible
Yet fallibility is the human condition
The face of our solemn tradition to misnomer God
Misrepresent divinity as something within comprehension
Dumbing it down for the least of us to grasp

There is nothing more poisonous than religion
And that is why we are one
A wordless, thoughtless faith
Paradoxical sanctimony garnered from apparitions
Righteous piety without the crutch of commandments
God within blood within God again

O, what do you hear?

There is no sound in Heaven
Only light
And in the silence, there were stories
Ones we were never told
Ones our fallibilities rendered mute

Fallibility aside
Faith and enough focus
Make us historians of histories we have never known
They give us ears to the silence in Heaven

O, what do you hear?

I have heard a ringing
Deafening, coarse
A war in the resonance

O, what do you hear?

The sound of desertion
Of shame, loss, and guilt
The regret of a deity

O, what do you hear?

A ransacking, a pillaging
The desecration of a place only known for consecration
Darkness in a world that once only knew light

O, what do you hear?

Catastrophe
Cataclysm
But above all?
I hear silence
A telling silence
Of which no amount of words or religion could surpass in depth
I hear these histories
And I hear the silence
Where can one turn without ears?
What can rectify a world without noise?
A world of light, perhaps
And to find one, you need only ask

Whence does all light come?





-Null