thoughts of an atheist
individuality, seemingly unique
yet, built upon the same mechanics,
built upon the same brain structure,
in each and everyone of us.
its engine, self awareness, conscious window
to a perceived external world - holds claim
to being one of a kind, but in truth
it is simply the same medium, given seeming
difference through the accumulation of
knowledge from a different viewpoint.
a picture, taken at a different angle
is still a picture.
everyone you will ever meet, at their source
is but you - is that inner voice, proclaiming
its sentient existence to all who will listen.
death? to be feared?
simply the end to one pocket of knowledge -
now carried over by artificial means.
the next new born wail will contain your source,
fresh, ready to soak up knowledge
and develop its own belief in its own uniqueness.
to be born in every birth, and to die in every death
and maintain the fragile structure of awareness
borne upon oblivions cusp.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (thoughts of an atheist by Christopher Withers )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Loving the Hands, Julie Suk
- Divine Providence 3, Aftab Alam
- Smoke on the Rooftops, jim hogg
- To my coy grand mum, Emmanuel chibuike
- Miss Flynn Walking The Halls, John Surowiecki
- Chopin Mazuraka In A Minor, John Surowiecki
- Mrs. SZMYKLESZCZWLADECZERYNIECKI'S Last .., John Surowiecki
- Movie Stars Thank My Mother For Her Patr.., John Surowiecki
- INSPIRATION 10 WORD, Beryl Dov
- The Wisest Aunt, Telling the Saddest Tales, John Surowiecki