A prayer: Ladders and Time on the Clock

I give the average human four decades
I took three, which is not braggadocio or conceit,

More so a margin of empathy to the rest of humanity  

I was raised Catholic, maybe the premium-cult of European descendant for

Religious folks indoctrinated in cultish behavior believing virgin-birth, living-bread man and Transubstantiation blood-drink completely rational

As a child I saw this and thought it strange, but kept most of my questions

Inside the perimeter of my cerebellum and lungs 

One like Carl Sagan can help us ponder, why there is not an abundance

Of spiritual epiphany conversions towards blue-painted elephant-head Gods

In Nebraska compared to Delhi or flying-white horses carrying prophets up in Beijing

Compared to Abu Dhabi, even McDonalds has markets off limits  

At my current age I often ponder how those with a length of time on this planet

Longer than mine or at say at least a decade more could believe in such things,

I know I have the internet now, but certainly this is little defense or aid 

This immediately brings me to think of my parents, and my grandparents

Who introduced me to what they were introduced and so I imagine back-dating

Beyond what I wish to count 

And so in my lethargy to do such mathematics, I think of the commensurate indolence

Of ancestor’s spiritual quests assimilated to that which was first offered as Turkish Delight

Taken what was proffered and imbibed to the point of confrontational antagonism

Towards any that would dare take away such nourishment  

For an answer is an answer and a non-answer is an occupation of sorts

And in the balance of work, play or indifference, often indifference is the easiest task

Of the mind, for often even playing around with another toy takes thinking,

Learning how to use it properly and if one is not a kite runner than one frets running

With such sharpened strings as what may fall out of the sky could be apocalyptic  

So I see the baptisms and herding of younglings

I see how I almost did this to my own offspring

I find myself catching my breath to revert such misunderstandings wondering,

Why no one ever told me?  Why was this train not stopped?  Why was it left up to me?   

I am left with it always was, but it takes a level of work to confront the love of generations,

The familial comfort of ancestry to rebuke the notion of imprinting a genetic fantasy and yet

Hold on to the love as those who have eaten from such troughs  

Often these flesh-eaters become violent when their meal is taken away and

What is left to replace the ammonia buffet is a shovel; there is no blessed book,

Only thoughts in the darkness to find the universal through the internal

Without ghost stories or a genetic ladder  

I am trying to offer the inverse to my daughter; a ladder that starts with me

One built on ration and cosmology that she can carry as this universe expands and

Eventually contracts; that has the stars explode and parcel light from absence

One can see the ladder and the time on the clock  

Maybe my three decades will be accomplished in her first

To see a portion of life, the universe from the blind

If only to wade through the fearful horde

For others to have their prayers and this may be one of mine