The Myth And The Mythless

O Jesus, they think
You were invented like a myth,
Then they enumerated all time
from your birth.

Still today people die
for believing in you.

The wise man,
They say in their wisdom,
Came from nowhere,
From nothing in an explosion,
Then back to nowhere again.
He has a meaningless life
Worth nothing, they say.

But I say
If the fool be wise,
And the wise a fool,
who is to know enough
to notice?
Yet they notice.

Jesus said the fool
builds his house
on shifting sand.

He said the wise man
Loves God with all his heart
And his neighbour
as himself.

He builds his house upon a rock.

He hides in catacombs
from those who would
erase him from the earth.

He hides his secrets in books,
but worldly wise has forgotten
How to read,
Nor how to make or light
a tallow candle
to search out secrets by.

They have no light-bearing fire,
Only a phosphorus mold
They nurture on a diet of death.

Cold wind disperses misty myths,
Blind leaders fall into ditches,
But Jesus mythless remains,
Standing at home in a lighted doorway
Inviting all who would enter
Before he closes it forever.