I’ve never been one for religion,
but I like the thought of something.
Something bigger than us,
or maybe smaller.
I follow the idea of having
a system or deity to believe in,
a faith I can accept blindly,
or maybe not so blindly,
in an attempt to belong.
I’ve never been one for religion,
but I’m fascinated by the idea
of a community so devout,
or maybe questioning it all.
I follow the idea of testing out
different religions to find a fit,
but it’s all too loose
or it’s too tight,
never the right embrace.
I’ve never been one for religion,
but I’ve heard my mother pray
under her breath when things got bad,
a habit I indulge in myself.
I follow the idea of being
Reborn.
But how exactly?
And what does it even mean?
Reborn spiritually?
Or as a new person?
A new personality?
Will I follow my neighbours who bathe crystals
in the ocean under the light of full moons,
or was it new moons?
Will I wake early on Sundays to sit
amongst the hymns and prayers,
the morning light staining my skin
in coloured glass reflections?
Or will I renounce it all?
Every aspect of questioned spirituality
in search of simplicity in the science
I’ve always trusted.
Will it heal my fear of ghosts if I do?
I’ve never been one for religion,
but I would walk willingly into a cult
despite knowing every warning sign
just to accept their gospel as truth
and end this continual questioning
I can’t seem to escape.
I’ll take the extreme
if it’s the thing to save me.