To Grace
Robert Lawson
published August 27th, 2003 :: issue 4
I know your secret. And I follow,
For acknowledging you is abiding
Pretending that you exist.
For you are the brightest of all illusions.
You are many things, though you are not.
Quintessential to hope, to purpose
Yet ultimately a vanity, a mirage.
The error of mind that is you
reflects no need, but rather a love of hatred.
Probable pain falsified is your awakening.
Through us you thrive
in our discomfort, our insecurity
As our bridge to a God as real as you
As our proof of purpose
As our motivation.
Yes, I know your secret
O great delusion, master of trickery
Charlatan.
Nothingness, perfectly disguised, unbluffing
Leader of the faithful, the hopeful, the blind.
Spare me, shadow.
Your light is nothing more than encroaching darkness
But I see beyond the simple, the vain
I see the truth
It floats atop your massive sea, waiting to be saved
No one is strong enough to swim out.
Your waves comfort them. They drown.
It’s so easy to drown...
Now, I can only try to bring truth to shore
And save them.
No. Alas, that hour has passed.
Salvation is despair, dread, depression.
So warped are their minds that they sicken without you
Yes, they need you. They need to feel significant.
You are their drug, the greatest drug of all.
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