Sweet Nothings of Prophecy

Deep in my heart of hearts,
in the deep soul of my being,
I am filled with doubt.
Is this the way it’s all supposed
to work itself out
and does anything I do or say to anyone
contribute to the solving
of the equation?

Why do I do what I do?
Why do I say what I say?
And does it matter
to anyone

I lie awake in bed.
I drink too much in the
wee hours of the morning,
the wee dram
of the creature
turns into milliliters
and ounces of
false courage.

I don’t have a connection to God!
I wish I did!
I wish the Almighty would
whisper in my ear
sweet nothings of prophecy
and make all clear

I’m no different now
than I was then
except they put a collar
on me!

= by C Eric Funston
29 September 2016