Atheist

Dear Sky Above,

I’ve found a lot of poems

About the stars you possess,

While searching for advice

On how to live in this body

Of nerve-endings on fire.

When the vestments no longer

Sit comfortably on the clumsy shoulders

Of a melting-clay child,

Shaped and casted into something

Recognizable

Rather than believable

By those whose anchor misfortune

Weighs them down in a sea of faith,

It is their willingness to “save” me with

The help of more apathy than you

Which I have come to fear

More than my ending itself.

The miles before I sleep will be filled

Not with the blood of your son,

But with acts kindness for the sake of someone else,

Selflessness without the attached I’m-happy-to-help.

How could you expect followers

To sacrifice themselves as taught

For any other reason than an award at the end?

I lack the belief that one must fear

Eternal consequence

Or hope for a lifetime in your idealistic clouds

In order to act righteously.

No longer yours,

A previously-malleable child