Some live in the haze,
Where religion is not
Supposed to make sense—
Where it’s not supposed
To be rational and reasonable,
But is merely a collection of things
To be believed—
Whatever fuzzy version of it
One’s camp is promoting.
But in the haze,
Things do have a way
Of making sense—
Once you’ve learned
Not to think about them.
But non-thinking does not
Suit everybody.
And for this reason,
Some hate the haze,
And will leave it
Once they figure out
That it cannot show probable cause
For the hope it has.
But not the others;
They will cling dearly to the haze,
As if commanded by God himself
To stay there,
Understanding very little,
And being able to
Explain rationally
Even less.
