The longer childhood we have
The greater growth we gain.
Produced the human brain.
The seed and root, the clambering vine
Toil upward, out of view;
The radiant flowers, which are their end,
Last but a day or two
Then wither, stunning emblems
Of a world we all transcend,
The bloom, the goal and glory,
Shown only at the end.
When innocents are catechized
And children made to quote,
It’s ABC divinity,
Salvation conned by rote.
Credo spouting adolescents
Are fatuous at best;
You can’t avoid time’s pilgrimage,
The question, or the quest.
All knelt before the risen Christ,
But Thomas stayed aloof.
By drawing out his skeptic doubt,
He earned the surest proof.
The Gnostics trod a left-hand path
Rejecting clerks and priests
And rose to God by inner light,
Not festivals and feasts...
By inner light (indeed, how else?!)
A Rapture all your own,
Resurrection while you live...
Yes, while you’re here!... or none.
Time’s pilgrimage is on your time.
Confront the threshold gates
And set aside your ego.
Till then true faith is skeptic work,
Not rosaries and beads.
“There lives more faith in honest doubt
Than all the world’s creeds.” *
Believe the greater goal is gained
The steeper path that’s trod,
And hold fast to your disbelief
To gain a greater God.