The Worshipper
Man was always known to bow, To fall straight on his knees, To prostrate, head to the floor, at home or overseas,
But later as man moved on, As skyscrapers stood erect, Computers then took our jobs and lives, to some effect,
Man found no need to bow down, He'd outgrown God you see, Reason was the new big trend, Was man finally free?
Now nobody was to be shackled, To be told what to do, Yet some remained, bowing silently, still, they were not but a few.
It was religion that caused these wars, This killing, this chaotic world, But man came to its rescue, no more evil would be unfurled,
Still, there was an emptiness, a hole that would not be filled More money did man no good and then they weren't so thrilled
Some turned to their careers, themselves, their cars, their houses, Surely happiness would arrive, With their shiny, gleaming spouses?
No drug could bring him joy, Only numbness, then pain, Every person he befriended, Would disappoint him yet again.
He searched the earth for paradise, From Switzerland to Spain, He toured the world in eighty days, But it was all in vain.
Dejected, man turned away, and turned then, to God "I turn to you in worship, for this world is but a fraud!"
A worshipper sat silently, his hair grey, his back bowed, He knew that look, this man was lost, he'd wandered from the crowd.
"Dear son, sit by my side, the mosque is no place for fear, Here only truth is spoken, Let me enlighten you, come near.
Son, this world is not the enemy, It can't trick you nor deceive, The fraud, dear son, is only you." he said on that cold eve.
"Worship isn't about God, its about humans, you see everyone worships something But you choose what that will be."
The man had then prostrated, his forehead to the floor, fingers trembling in the dark, He'd never felt like this before.
A wave of calm took over, he realised something that night: he'd been worshipping all his life, but this time, it felt right.
