Prophets of Little Faith

Another day,

another dollar,

another hero slain.

Another loss,

another cost to pay.

 

There is no respite from life,

until Heaven comes down,

there is only chaos

in the sounds

and all around.

 

The people say

that there’s no rest

for the wicked,

for the righteous,

for the slave.

There is no time

like the present,

for the heathen,

for the saved

and the only

thing that’s certain,

is the tax man

and the grave,

or so they say;

those prophets of little faith.

 

There is no hope left

for the hopeless.

No God for the godless.

No promise

that all this

means anything.

 

Adrift on the sea

a captainless ship

has let itself slip

into dangerous seas.

Uncharted,

unwelcome,

unease.

Another day comes

and we do as we please.

 

Some days are just arrows

fired into the Sun.

Seeking meaning,

silent pleading,

that this time

we’ll be someone.

 

We’ll have purpose,

we’ll know love

and we won’t be alone.

This life

is all about

making it

on our own.

It’s time to let

these faithless prophets go.

 

HG – 2016

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