Come Casual

You, Profaneness, flung in blasphemy,
Reeking contempt with arrogant bravado
Of Hell’s abyss, you are a belief
Of disbelief whose consequences
Require no answer, for there is
No other, other than yourself.

But what of you, Pious Pride,
Ensconced so smugly in your convictions?
What influence you wield, what power
And wealth to proselytize by cajolement,
And if failing, bloodshed, regardless
Of your creed or your sect or culture.

Whether viewed as light to darkness
Or darkness passing into Light,
Passion holds no sway.
Which is the blinded fool
Is, perhaps, only he
Who presumes to know.

                       rlkilgore