Basis of Belief

Spare me ill-considered thoughts and tales of the enlightened sage whose very basis of belief arose in palpable assemblage one late summer evening while listening to his ringing ears, as he lay soaking naked in a tub. And holy writ of nether world— its commands and promises now in language thrice removed— misunderstood when first uttered in scarce remembered ancient tongue, yet presumptive literal masters hasten to opine. Absurdities compound, interstices of mind— vacuformed and stolid— deny calm reason’s abstract, and flee truth’s sanctum, dogma in their fond embrace, awash in its decrepitude. Humanity thus in thrall of Mesmer’s haunt sustains a tortured cadence of greed, dishonesty and graft, which now in tawdry bloat ascends, as if arms of gods on the empyrean sphere would open wide to greet. Consider well and ponder such severely, who would transcend the veil, for wisdom gained and love prolonged will surely ease the transit. And those who favored having over being? Their cherished worth is fled. Their hubris now dismissed.