The Believer

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“Spin the bottle, there’s a selection to be made,”

“Not by us, but by fate, the great selector,” he said.

But I do not believe in dice and other such charades,

I am the decider of my destiny, no palms need be read.

 

The hell-bent charlatan, he wouldn’t give up so easily,

“It’s written in the stars,” he mentioned in a whisper.

Horoscopes are the fates of fools hurrying about busily,

Tricks of the mind, an injury to commonsense, a blister.

 

“The gods will it,” he pressed, desperate for greedy gain,

But there is only one God, and a thousand pretenders.

And following after idols is the harbinger of eternal pain,

I have sworn eternal allegiance to my soul’s Defender.

 

My resolve is a dead horse, a flogging of which is a wasting,

Of time and energy, a mindless reasoning for no reason.

I am the believer, my faith unfading through life’s hasting,

And from sunrise to sunset, unyielding through the seasons.

 

1 comments
Lamzierouge
Lamzierouge

That's a really beautiful poem. I love it. Well done