Who Is The Devil Poem by Earnest Gatuma

There is superstition,
A word that can nonetheless parlance the intangible,
The unrealistic domain which is said to be ever active,
Stringed to radical beliefs,
Concurring with religion,
Somehow takes control of who we are,
Explaining what we have become,
But the figurative aspect can not be bought by everyone,
When taken literal it's more than a theoretical emphasis,
It becomes more of the cookie in a narrow brimmed jar,
Too narrow for your hands to get you indulged,
There is a decree and decorum that conserves it's essence,
Superstition has an established station,
Made by us since the primeval times,
When science had not equipped itself with elocution,
Logic was at the time not well approached to,
Logic by then was the devil and his accomplices,
Logic was camouflaged amid the iniquities we emanated,
If you made logic you were simply mistaken or possessed,
Hitherto nothing much has changed except that logic was liberated,
Religion approached science later but set parameters,
Logic is only applicable when affirming the deities existence,
If logic criticizes the deity then that's no less the Devil.