Faith No More

On bended knee in the shadow of candle light
Words flit and flutter from lips to air, hands squeezed tight.

Wishing, hoping with all his might
that the fallen ones were not right.

Pleading his case before the altar of pain, never did he ask for money, power, or fame.

Peace was what he sought, what he was promised was bought in rivers of blood spurting from martyr’s veins.

He watched his words mix with smoky incense rise to heaven, twirling, curling they crash like gentle waves against the ceiling.

Tears spill upon the cathedral floor, for his words, his pleadings, are no more. That’s as high as they go.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

The word rings through every bit of flesh and bone. A steely coldness wraps about his soul.

Eyes cast upon the idol of stone and wood where once stood his symbol of hope. Now all he sees are broken dreams amid a pile of fables.

Played for a fool, he petitioned that which was not there. The foundation of stone in an instant pulverized to dust by a hammer forged in truth.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

No hero upon white horse comes to save the day. No king on high on which to beg for aid.

Rising to his feet, eyes cast to the ground, he has naught else to do but admit defeat.

No more. Yes, no more shall he seek relief,
Not from man, not from beast
Certainly not from any so-called god.

No more. No more.

For this man, with spirit splintered in pieces, faith is no more.