Judgment, rapture, nor ascension
Should Messiah walk the Earth, the stupor that owns this moment would pay no heed.
And the beast that enslaves these times would lash the Redeemer to the cross corporate.
End of days these may be, but not as told.
A vengeful god might call judgment, a cynical god let infidels pass to light, a god vindictive let you linger in Hades uncertain.
But those gods are of imagination, of febrile minds.
Exalt The Lord of Creation, not god of creationism. Behold son of man, not Son of God. Foretell no chosen race. Favor no franchise. Stand not as hypocrites in synagogues seen in worship. Congregate as Humans in Life’s Tellural Temple, seen of God.
Lord sculpted Earth for you, His animals of intellect, an act of love, creating breath from void.
His wisdom shaped mist-cloaked mountains, lush sweet valleys, shimmering singing rivers, and oceans of pristine purity.
He wrote in Earth a message intimate to life, delivered in silent whispers to stilled minds.
Eyes dim to this sacred beauty, ears deaf to nature’s wisdom, you obsess in detritus of crazed minds.
Lost in realms of pseudepigrapha, purported words of ancient sayers, cited pretenders, recited false prophets, all claiming in history’s attention His affection, your inner fancy supplants sight, sound, smell, touch… even common sense with centuries of theistic pedagogy, beneath which pales truth’s faint trail.
His message was plain and needed simple doing, simple living.
Instead you expend the planet’s air debating whom He favors.
No matter how burning the narrative or profound the tome, each worshipful congregation disunites to myriad, each disciple aspires to priest of a further sect till, churches in profusion, clergy and scholars embroider, analyze, interpret, reinterpret, tell, retell, and always, but always, to profit of keepers of knowledge, never to celebrate truth or flourish humankind.
A flood of faiths, surfeit of saints, redundant rapture in daily disappointment, priesthoods of obscene wealth wrested cruelly from souls insolvent. A greedy scramble to be chosen, as if Earth a sinking vessel and faiths but lifeboats. Opposing believers infidel, unbelievers heathen – even if hearts purer than thine.
Empires of robe, chalice, and temple sustain rival armies of dogma. Scholarly careers mull nuance and contingent ambiguity into a universe of word, concept, and postulate.
Fortune and effort so spent would feed Earth’s wretched.
A farmer speaks more sense to his barn animals than all the scriptures and gospels born of your posturing proselytizing.
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