“Prayer for a Shattered Dream”
We ripped a veil off the monster last week,
We stared into the Abyss and found it staring back.
It did not.
Now my heart cries out in anguish:
Why, oh God, why?
Why now, why us – are we not the Chosen?
Is this not what we are told in our houses of stone and wood?
Is this not the promise your servants gave us?
Is this not the burning bush of our lore?
Of course it is, you reply,
Did I not create it all?
Did I not guide you every step of the way?
Of course I didn’t, you say.
This isn’t my way,
This is not what I ask of you,
But you chose this Void,
You blinked at the Abyss,
This is the whirlwind you so badly desired,
You created this storm, now reap it.
But god, we cry, we did not know what we did!
We did not know the face of horror,
The face of terror,
Surely we were misled by the Enemy!
Save us from ourselves!
The Enemy laughs.
Of course this isn’t my work.
I haven’t worked in two thousand years, He says.
You were doing just fine on your own,
Using me to absolve your hatred,
You built this house, now live in it.
All of you turn away.
It is cold here, dark.
The Abyss hungers,
The Void beckons,
The silence overwhelms,
We tremble in fear.
We’ve got your thoughts and prayers, don’t worry.
But there at the ragged granite edge,
Where the flames lick our waistlines,
When the ground shakes and rumbles,
We take a step forward.
We step into the flames,
Fire extinguisher in hand-
This may be a trashfire, but it is our trashfire.
This is my prayer:
That we go to work,
Not in any of the names of the Nameless Divine,
Nor in spite of the Nameless Divine’s absence,
But in the community of humanity,
In the community for hope,
In the community of peace.
My shattered heart seeks the shattered dream,
A loud voice silenced by a trumpet,
My hands bound to the plow,
My legs on this ship we call home
My heart seeks the whirlwind,
My heart seeks to reap and plant anew.