Boleh Tahan ~ REFLECTIONS
The
incense urn bristles with
burning sticks, and the
blue-gray smoke curls lazily
upwards
in the old Chinese temple
until a sudden breeze sends
it swirling
in all directions.
The sun shines brightly on
the courtyard
from a clear blue sky,
leaving the interior dimly
lit and in shade,
cooler there than in the glare;
several people sit here and
talk,
their voices humming, barely
heard.
The tiled roof and upturned
eaves
are cleanly outlined;
the tall red pillars stand
contrasted
against the gloom behind;
the gilded carvings gather
dust and grime;
the incense ash sits deep.
The painted door guards look
on
with unseeing eyes, challenging
no-one,
their job symbolic.
The ancient stones are worn
still more
by soles of many feet;
the shrine is well frequented.
Lamps and candles burn on
altars,
‘mid offerings of fruit
and flowers.
The statues sit unmoving,
unmoved by the prayers and
cries
of their supplicants.
We create the statues and
then begin
to worship them, and often,
become afraid of not doing
so,
or of displeasing the gods
in some way.
This tendency’s been
with us
from primitive times;
how strange, how amazing,
that it remains till now,
when
we should have outgrown it
long ago!
‘Tis not, as some have
said and hold,
that God created us,
but rather, the other way
around.
Who, then, are we worshipping,
but ourselves?
Better to understand than
to merely pray!
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