Prostituted piety

Brooklyn_Museum_-_Studio_Shot_of_European_in_Gypsy_Costume_One_of_274_Vintage_Photographs

I consider myself a believer in God,
But I am not confident He is on my side,
Therefore I look to all mankind,
For mercy, from L.A. to Riyadh.
Even if it is a whore,
Who knows?
Maybe God is on her side,
Will favour her more.
Of faith there are subtleties,
Not that one becomes pompous and boastful,
Arrogantly.
Assured of themselves,
Ironically,
That assuredness being,
Insecurity.
The secret of faith,
Is being unsure of,
Your reality,
Forever stuck between hope and fear,
Between conviction and,
Non assuredly,
Questioning yourself,
Perpetually.
Keeping your ego tame,
Serving humanity,
Leaving all,
Frivolities.
Of the self, of the desires,
Abandoned civility.
So come and be of faith,
Bury the I, bury You,
Bury Me,
And be,
In harmony,
Eternally,
Be rid of this,
Prostituted piety
-W.E.

Please spare me,
I don’t want to see,
Your necklaces of piety,
Your ornaments on display, momentarily,
Show me humility,
Show me tranquillity,
Show me serenity,
Show me humanity,
Show me anything but me.
-W.E.

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