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Grown? Yes. 
Big and proficient
Religion the father of being
Old-coming the days prior
To all flesh heard of
Then was a baby born
Born on palms, crying and writhing
Without way, merry and say
This was the beauty of days ancient
Seeing nuclei of mystery and greatness sprout 
And religion carried the thing undefined
Round and around, heeding and feeding it
It cried often and wronged often
And was often exonerated a thing minus brain
Now grown it is
Respect, honor and reverence of old no longer
The hands that fed it in past
Has it licked and bitten
It’s turned a beggar without gratitude
To carry religion places absurd
Of philosophies heathen
Whereof it wasn’t taken young
Like the earth being born of the universe
Has learnt  to bear the universe 
Dumping it into the Pacific
Aaaah! A rhetoric eternal
The predator will die before the prey 
Recover your uselessness man
How you began in the flesh
And are now given to end in spirit for free
What a mystery unveiled
There was a way that led you home always 
When you had home none
That’s more reverent than the opportunist that follows the tide
In pockets unmannered we’ve overtaken 
The womb that bore us
And man is a servant become master
Like a child rapidly promoted to sit on the father’s chair
Will the squirrel mock the poor hole 
That saves her from the craving hunter?
Perhaps when the child grows

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