Questions of a Skeptical Believer

Prosetry

What if God is one of you? What if heaven is a place on earth? Who do you measure yourselves against, when there is no ferryman waiting on the shore of Styx? No Hades or Heaven’s Gate, when Hell is what you make it, with rationalist uncertainty framing faithful points of reference trying to cover the cracks in the science. Who pays the cost of narcissism when the world ends? Each time you shut your eyes you vanish, because nothing really exists in time without mind, or so you have been told; although, you can't just jettison the power of the soul. There is no Elysium swept in gold, with ripened corn, awaiting the sharpened scythe of a reaper. Without doubt, dissidents are the interrogators, asking about everything you presumed to be true, that you should never be without.

This poem is in response to this Wednesday Prose Poem Prompt by J.D. Harms.

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2021 MDSHall is a poet and a creative, who is the creator and curator of The Bazaar of the Bizarre and a submissions editor for The POM, living in Illinois, also writing in association with the Writes of Passage, “forged on the wordwrights’ anvil,” and the Muse Echo Collective, Purveyors of the Poet Tree of Discoursing Drums beating by any dreams necessary.