Holy Books

Perhaps we have been reading the wrong bible all along.
The fact that its pages are most often bound in black
should provide us with a clue right off the bat.

Maybe most of our wars, inquisitions, tortures, fears,
and incessant biased judgments we apply to each other
are merely the sad result of relying on the wrong book.

Without the ancient so-called holy books, maybe we
would calm down, exhale, and even become good friends
instead of holding sharp knives at each other’s throats.

Perhaps we would finally unite as one planet, one familial
species, and reject the angry imposters who perpetually
foster division, destruction, crusades, and sexual guilt.

There is a tight knot within us, a subtle but effective
contraction at our very core, which none of us arrived
here with, but which we now bear like a hidden sore.

We may have come into this world with the best intent,
but the more we were exposed to the propaganda of this
rough realm, the more baffled and ambivalent we became.

We were taught to fear the Sky-God, to loathe our bodies,
to despise and condemn those who didn’t follow our book,
to ruthlessly subjugate nature to achieve our material ends.

Meanwhile, the real God selflessly sustains us in the humble
forms of oxygen which fills our lungs, blood which courses in
our veins, and electric impulses that make thought possible.

This God neither needs nor wants our prayers of worship,
nor requires our forced obedience, and does not stand
in judgment over us when we slip into the invisible.

When lovers find each other at last and rush into each
other’s waiting arms, it is this God who both embraces and
simultaneously is embraced — who is that warm embracing.

When little children point in awe and wonder at the birds
in flight, it is this God who is pointing, and this God
who soars in ecstasy throughout time and space.

When Jesus stepped from the boat to walk on water,
it was this God that lifted his feet, quenches our thirst,
that washes the dust of the road from our weary faces.

This God is not to be found in any wordy text or made-up
holy book; this is the God who is patiently waiting for us
to grow up and recognize who and what we are at last.

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About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have several other sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: http://www.pbase.com/1heart Essays on the Conscious Process: http://theconsciousprocess.wordpress.com/ Poetry and Prosetry: https://feelingtoinfinity.wordpress.com/ Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: https://westernmystics.wordpress.com/ https://freetransliterations.wordpress.com/ Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: https://spiritguidesparrow.wordpress.com/ Thank You!
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