Destination: what comes next

 I live in a room where the walls are impenetrable, but see through.
The view is breath taking, but in the way that takes your breath away because air is a commodity and breathing is something that belongs only to those born to win.
This suffocation is pennance for an unnamed crime, we serve birth till death inside this box.
This sentence is a journey without a single step to convince ourselves that the monsters under the bed are tests sent by a man we hope lives in the sky.
If you ask most people and they actually tell you the truth, you'll find that for them, life is hoping to die by accident to circumvent that pesky commandment.
The punishment for the innate desire to escape is an infinite swim in the lake of fire.
Escapism is pre programmed but labeled as sin.
We are set up to fail and brought up by hands intent on peeling away our skin.
This specific body modification we've named religion and is our first effort name a universe we don't comprehend and our worst effort to understand the hearts of men.
Heaven satisfies our insatiable desire for life to be fair.
Hell satisfies even as we deny it, our propensity for sadism
and god has become a Stockholm Syndrome father that demands love even as he picks the thickest switch from the tree of knowledge.
The skin falls in ribbons. The pain is a lesson that makes it evident that heaven doesn't exist.
It's in those pain fueled moments of rage someone screams that if god exists, he better beg forgiveness from me.

We live in a house that greed built.
A select few hold the hammers and an unlucky majority became the nails, brick and mortar.
They told us all god was inside, but foundations slide when built on piles of gold stones.
I don't know what the truth is or where to find it or if something like it even exists to be simplified and condensed down to something we can call god.
Perhaps whatever we've been calling the father of us all really is the mother of us all and takes great exception to being always being painted with a beard.
Maybe seeing killing each other in his/her/it's name has broken and maimed the heart enough for us to be pushed away like a junky child who stole from their mother's  purse for the last time.
Or maybe we're just a science experiment and that's it.
Just organic matter cobbled together to see what happens.  
Or maybe we are an accident that someone or something regrets.
But our collective ego won't let us accept it.
The world, gravity, moons, stars, planets must  revolve around the myth that the earth was created for us.
But, what if we are the caretakers, the universe the stage and we merely players?
I saw a picture taken of man at the exact second a bullet ended his life.
His eyes turned up. Maybe seeing god or maybe because the kinetic energy snapped his head back as the screaming metal wreaked havoc in his chest.
I'm a vouyer watching him stand straddling the line betwern this life and whatever comes next.He either sees the face of god and we're l wrong or the black emptiness of time greets him.
He paid the ultimate price fighting in another man's war to invade another man's patch of sand.
Only to finally have the grand answer for a few seconds.
I keep his picture as a reminder.
A kind athiest and pious christian can be miles apart in doctrine, but equivalent in actions.
Religion is not god.
I don't want to be defined by a myth that wants credit for my intentions.
Whatever comes next is my destination but not the reason for my journey.