2. Gregory M.

Preachers had told him of God’s utter grace,

The promise of his slice of Heaven one day.

Johnny lived his life to get to that place,

Honest and docile, as the Book would say.

Ten years Johnny never doubted his God

Or His power to soothe rage and aching,

‘Til God told John in a dream he was flawed

And John’s faith was then stressed to its breaking.

“Johnny, listen to me, thy Eminence.

I’m a conception, yet you think me real.

Your life has been a show, a performance

Which you boast as the root source of its zeal.

Your life is led by my hand,

A ventriloquist dummy.

Think trusting that it’s all planned  

Will keep food in your tummy?

Live your life like a mime show,

Invisible boundaries.

But you must box yourself in

Not for fun but Holy fear.

Shown a sword or a gospel
You will swallow the latter

And take it as factual,

And a literal matter.

But that’s your best performance,

I wish now to admit it.

As the one real audience

To your religious pageant.”

John so feared what God admitted him thus,

That he searched through natural consciousness

For a new Lord and quantum of goodness:

John the atheist spurning the blindness.