There’s no God,
For who worships him, when am not?
I am, so, I make it happen.
I create an image of him, in my mind
and bow to the one I have created.
Fashioned out of the many fears, and dreads
and wishes of peace.
Longings from past existence, moulds him to whatever I like,
to be prayed to
and to be forgotten
to be inquired of
and to be sidelined
to be begged, when a thousand worries cripple
In the emptiness,
the nothingness that shines through persistently
HeShe wakes up,