A figment

What ghoulish guardians have we created,
materialized from nothing
               (or at least
our imaginations) brought into being

for our benefit?
                         They must watch us

from the sky, or on our shoulder,
or having ascended to a place

we mustn’t comprehend, from some
heavenly vantage point.

                                   What faith we instill

in cherished choruses of cherubs, imaginary
               (or at least
invisible to me) while we count down

to joining them?
                         An advent calendar

for atheists merely leads
to disappointment.

                                   We implore them,

asking the winds to change
               (or at least
dissolve) demanding death divorce

taxes and embrace uncertainty.

Still they do not listen.
               (Or at least
I do not imagine them to. My imaginary

friends long forgotten.)

---

Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019