Ps 1
The sheer thought of the utter frustration of broken promises, through
centuries upon centuries of unanswered prayers and devotion to the dark
void way up high, is heartbreaking and sickening. I feel utter sadness
for billions of people who desperately tried to apply the idea that god
punishes the wicked and rewards the just, while they watched their
children die horrible deaths, got dragged into concentration camps or
simply never found any lasting happiness in their lives.
A million candles burning for the love that never came.
Of course, those in robes, armed with bibles, ominous latin chants, and
scourges, had clever words to cover up the insanity: sin, free will,
theodicee. If you can't convince them, confuse them. Like a politician
waging a war to cover up his failures, the believer had to be declared
the offender, so deity could remain irresponsible, and the money would
still flow in.
All of that, just because we were unable to resist the temptation to
project everything good into father, fatherhood into monarchy, and
monarchy into heaven.
May all sentient beings be free from suffering.
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