Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado @ Unsplash
All I wanted is you to take my unbelief.
I wish you haven’t wasted the gift of faith on me.
I wonder how’d life be like if I’ve never heard your name, attended one of their services for you, have had read that book they say it’s about you. Would you have come to me even then? Would I know about you from a different source?
I’ve been finding these songs kinda hard to believe, those stories, the poetry, the very words supposed to be yours sound phoney to me now. I don’t hate it, but I don’t love it either.
Do you know how I felt when he told me how senseless that is? He is right, you know. I taught him everything. I wrote on his book, in fact, I wrote in dozens of those books, “the book has all the answers”, and now I can’t find a single one. It is easier to not believe, despite what many might say, it is indeed easier to not believe, but much more painful than believing. Some say you’re too good to not believe, but how could I believe it when you’re clearly not interested in revealing yourself much?
I don’t profit from the message. I’m not like some of ‘em. Don’t wanna fake my way into it, pretend that I know, pretend that I believe so I can be closer to what really matters the most. This generation that always felt so close to my heart and mission and still does. I still look to them from a place of empathy and caring.
Did you really plant that seed in there? Or is it just my heart manifesting moral dilemmas too big to my comprehension from a place of social assistance?
Do you know how much I love them?
Can you feel how much I love him?
Well, maybe you do, if you’re out there. But most times, it doesn’t feel like you are. And that’s my fear.
Should I still be able to believe with those that I thought how to believe, or should I lead them astray from the very place and path I lead them into? Or maybe even worse. Should I just let it go?
All that I want is the truth, to find it, to live it, to believe it.
All I wanted is you to take my unbelief.
