Chained

Ask for a miracle, give everything for nothing

Obsequious and fawning, call on the gods, the ancestors serving with the empty hand

Make yourself holy, prepare the way, mask your desire and cover your fear with ritual intention

Cast yourself to the wind, perform with great flourish, and discover that god has abandoned you

The ancestors are dead, your inheritance is only a faint impression inscribed in the cell

Their hunger is your hunger, made real by your fear, your worship will not satiate it

Little gods of wood and stone, silent idols like false memories of forebears we never knew

Pietas is the enslavement of the heart and mind, bound by the iron ring of symbol and tradition

Do you hear them speaking?

Listen closely, it is your own voice you are hearing, justifying the path you set yourself on

Obeisance to religion, is fealty to a fiction, a false piety that burns in bright colors on the altar

Listen, the way is one of humility, the relationships before you are the entire world, let go

The past holds people in its rigid-grip, with violence and a lust for life that will not be quelled

We cannot stay bound to it, led about by phantom chains, bolted to the heart, break them apart

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