I belong to no one else.
I am my own— hardly,
A blinking aggregate of macromolecules
Staring down from the edge of a black hole
That they tell me is eternity.
The preacher told me he would pray for me;
I don’t know what for.
I am everything I could ever need;
They fumble for something more.
They are aligned in
Archaic allegories,
Paradoxical ceremonies.
I sit at the edge of the deeply unknown
And am not afraid to be my own.
What do I believe in?
Disbelief,
The scientific method.
Entropy,
Explanations for the reverent.
I am the prophet of my own dissenting,
A martyr risen for reinventing.
I am degenerate; a random genetic repetition.
Yet both my fate and inhibition
A sentient sieve's distinct nerve endings,
A protagonist that chooses my own beginning.
--
For the "Religious Poetry: Non-Christian" contest, Atheism