Believers are always faithful
To their vindictive gods,
Which at times seems ridiculous
And confusingly at odds.
Maybe they're just empty vessels
Filled by whatever decree,
They're born to, marry, fancy,
Hear or think they see.
And how peculiar when God
Has so many names,
With contradictory rules
In His puppet master games.
Curious, too, that the Creator
Is usually a He –
Evidently there's low tolerance
For women in Divinity.
Strange because without a womb,
As Blessed Mary would well know,
The Holy seed of God and Man
Would have nowhere to grow.
They'd die out in the ether
Before they ever hatched,
But in this nothingness the always faithful
Would at least be better matched.
The hope is that one day Belief
Will have real seeing eyes,
And know it's only fear of the unknown
That wears a vindictive disguise.