Chapter 1: The Search for Meaning

In a world that often feels devoid of divine presence, we grapple with our own existence. The journey of life is riddled with struggles, where the weight of despair can feel suffocating.

"In the presence of the divine."

I wasn't destined for sin,

Nor was I born from greed.

I existed, just barely,

With chains binding my feet.

A heart made of tin and eyes so cold,

I grew to resent the path before me.

No god to gaze upon,

No goddess to share my bed.

A fleeting sense of peace drifts in and out,

Yet permanence remains elusive.

Trees and shrubs continue to thrive,

But never abandon their roots.

I once held beliefs,

Crafted by human hands of intelligent design.

Yet, as I matured, the magic of Santa Claus faded,

Lost from the corners of my mind.

I consume to escape my sorrow,

Despite the remnants of my past.

Parents overlooked my heart,

So I swallowed that too, in the passage of time.

Magic whispers through birds and books,

But truly listening feels burdensome.

Existence aches within my chest,

And I find myself crashing to the floor.

If you hear my cries,

Or witness me pulling at my hair,

Know that it’s not hatred for the world,

But rather fear that lays me bare.

Why should I fear when nothing changes?

We lament and weep,

Questioning our fate,

Yet death is the only certainty that remains.

Boredom seeps into this flesh and bone,

As I sit on the shore, gazing at my feet.

Seagulls cry against the wind,

And a sense of conclusion begins to form.

Perhaps it’s my end,

Or maybe a glimpse of the divine,

Purchasing fleeting joys,

A spine jolted by a lightning strike.

A storm brews, a tide rushes,

My mind struggles to keep pace.

I writhe against the soiled sheets,

A shadow lurking, unacknowledged.

I once prayed,

I once pondered,

But now I grasp the reality—

No god stands before us,

Only the fruits of our labor.

Life is present,

And so is suffering,

Yet beauty persists,

In flowers and the rain.

Sunsets glow with brilliance,

Emerald forests offer respite for our weary souls.

There are moments of brilliance,

And defeats so dreadful.

Indeed, we will fade, both body and mind,

But the present moment is ours,

And we must embrace it without hesitation.

If there is a god or an afterlife,

I suspect it differs greatly from our visions.

If there’s something beyond our existence,

It certainly doesn’t resemble mythical dragons.

Fire, brimstone, and fanciful tales,

Life is rich with narratives,

We require no more.

Nature is splendid enough,

Feel it deeply within our essence.

In the presence of the divine, I sit,

Reciting these verses.

Within this divine embrace, I find rest,

Forgetting all that time has claimed.

Chapter 2: The Poetic Journey of Faith

In "A Poem About Faith," Blake Auden eloquently navigates the complexities of belief, existence, and the intertwining of joy and pain. This poem serves as a reminder of the beauty that persists amid life's struggles, urging us to embrace the present moment.