October 28th, 2021
If god were a real man, he'd be afraid. This concept he created, this theatrical stunt we pull off every eighty years or so, would no longer be writhing in his fingers. He'd become his concept-the hands, nonexistent. Nothing to give reward or punishment. Nothing to deem worthy or deserving. Instead, it's all chance and fairness through worldwide inequity. If god were a real man, he'd be naive. From birth, a seed of hope would be growing, and his purpose, according to him, would be to spread it. But what is hope in a world where death comes knocking when it wants to? What is hope when nothing is certain and everything is fleeting, and we are all just intelligent flesh? What is hope when God is man, and man is ruthless? If god were a real man, we'd all be damned.
R.K.
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Holeheart
PoesíaI am the forgiver. I am the destroyer. I'm not at fault, but I deserve to be. Poetry and Prose Volume V 2021 DISCONTINUED
