09-06-2011, 08:38 AM
Squares, churches, rusting doors,
celebrations in the streets
of some dusty old village.
A sombre thought for those same folk
in a rec room, cold and close,
where evening prayers are sometimes held.
Anger at both these stereotypes,
the peasants and the urbanites,
in those who understand neither.
Our atheists are cold as beer,
our soul cleansers are blind as holes.
Above it all the sky observes.
celebrations in the streets
of some dusty old village.
A sombre thought for those same folk
in a rec room, cold and close,
where evening prayers are sometimes held.
Anger at both these stereotypes,
the peasants and the urbanites,
in those who understand neither.
Our atheists are cold as beer,
our soul cleansers are blind as holes.
Above it all the sky observes.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe