A while ago I wrote a little poem about eternity and the fate of civilization, which was quite a departure from my usual poetic topic, puns. I have my pretentious moments, just like everyone else. It later occurred to me that this poem could become a part of a much larger work: a description and justification of all of my political and philosophical beliefs in verse. 'Cause why not? The chance that I will complete this project isn't huge, but here's a newly-minted second part of it, which, if I ever do finish the whole thing, will precede the "first" part by many pages.
Holy books are filled with fiction.
Wishful thinking, clumsy lies
And internal contradiction
Make their authors seem unwise.
Whether one God or eleven
Rule their model of the skies,
They treat fate, the Earth and heaven
As if they had ears and eyes.
As if they could understand them.
Answer pleas, forgive mistakes,
Pity, comfort and command them.
Mend their hearts and sooth their aches.
Our big brains evolved to give us
A leg up on other men,
So that they don't outlive us
And their genes don't spread again.
So we're good at understanding
Human minds and human acts,
But much worse at comprehending
Random chance and cold, hard facts.
When we scream at our devices,
Tell a keyboard to be damned
Or attribute human vices
To a printer that has jammed
We act much like those believers
Who beg fate, the Earth and sky
To deliver them from fevers
And to save them when they die.
I'm not as down on religion as these verses imply when taken by themselves. If I continue the poem, I will talk about faith's positive aspects in the next section.