Ruminations on God

On bended knee we exalt,

praising Him whom lives above the stars and sun.

Our thirst for the divine is a tool

to keep us grounded.

To bring us back to the reality we all live

before death-

before we are welcomed back to His kingdom.

Loyal soldier to the end.

Praise be to Glory God!

Soldier...

Marching to the beat of his drum.

A silent general,

giving us flashes us inspiration

when we least expect it.

A drop in the pan

with the power he wields.

And in his image, we march on.

His commands subterfuge,

his rewards riddles.

But still we believe in his higher purpose.

Praise be to God.

Purpose...

Why are we here?

Are we clay golems with no means to an end?

Are we meant to live,

only to die?

If so, then what do we do in the meantime?

Those commands would come in handy right about now.

but we are 2000 years past his word.

The riddles are now spoken softly-

a rustle of leaves diverting our attention,

the prick of static shock before touching a closed door-

the chill air before a monumental decision.

A decision which could mean life or death.

But now we don't listen as much, even if the advice could save us.

Praise be.

But what happens when we all kill in His name-

and the same "Him" we speak of varies from one person to another?

Does His order to kill me

hold more weight than the ones I received about you?

Who wins when we both pray to the same god

for death?

And what message do we both receive?