The Atheist
He pipes out in pride and boasts of his creed
crushing the spirit of those who believe
he thinks he is right he has planted no seed
except that of money and power, perceived
The stars and the moon are trinkets of science
no angels of cure no God to procure
he lifts up his chin and puffs in defiance
honey there's nothing out there, but manure;
The sun and the wind the rain and the trees
nothing out there can foretell,... its so lame
abhorring the faithful that fall on their knees,
he's a rift in God's nature, Oh ! what a shame
That he can't see the beauty of "Faithing in Christ"
and he can't feel the power, of Faith, thinly sliced.
November 29, 2018
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2018
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