Shades of Velvet

Playing the game of dice is not God's hobby,
Maybe that is why whilst the shadows slither by
faith hides among the silhouette of a horrid tide.

Maybe Gods are Gods alone, not saviors,
Neither eclectic geniuses who could dismember society,
Nor revolutionaries to transform hate into fragrance of love.

There are reasons to suspect Gods have rented rooms
not between the hymns that our mouths utter,
But between the bright gold and hanging velvets.

For this, I presume the ship that slaved Africans
and the ideas that caged humanity are the same,
Myths are myths alone, always a misused term.

And by this I do not uphold the claim of a God in coffin,
But I pry on the delight that I find myself free,
Both from religion and a disorienting lifestyle.