Agnosticism
Are you the artist? Can you say?
Or has that too gone, run away?
It seems that time has come once more,
Our respects again to pay.
The way is clouded, dark, and bleary,
As your eyes grow tired and weary,
The road grows crooked, steep, and eerie,
Night has come again.
The path is lost, and yet you seek:
Divide the righteous from the weak,
Explain to them their place and place them
Far from truth they say.
Are you the writer? Is it known?
Or is it just your rhyme and bone?
Some trifle to placate the masses
Make them all happy.
It's all a way to move the masses,
Keep on making pious passes,
At the will and whim of man,
And to what end, my friend?
Who will you save when day is done?
Who will you pay for your crooked fun?
Is this the Way or is it yours,
To force on other men?
Whence did the big man come to you,
Tell you truly: It was true?
And now whatever shall you do?
When last your ruse is done.
For all of us, an end to life.
An end to money, love, and strife.
But what more lies beyond the veil,
To tempt your weary eyes?
None of us know, and none can say.
And to the liar: will you pay?
If it is known and otherwise it is,
Will He say "Liar"?
Ponder now, my friend, for I,
Hold enmity at bay and sigh,
We're all Enemies to one another,
At some point in life.