Hollow Pails

Let the hollow pails rattle like the empty souls who create a cacophony of dissatisfaction, and recognize this chaotic clamor for what it is...selfish shouting...a babble of disinformation attempting to bind the listener to the same unworthy cause.

Some call it religion...the chronic hymn of a consecrated belief system. The proponents of such scripture profess salvation, and then seal this ideology with verses of destruction.

Don't you want to be saved? Don't you want to escape damnation? Don't you want to be included...in what is deemed sacred?

Sadly you can't buy spiritual fulfillment, no matter how many tithes you donate, but make no mistake...the notion of salvation can be sold... even to pagans. And beyond the till of financial collections, "The Faith of the Faithful," provides a larger reward to their collectors...as desperate inductees become fervent believers, fresh converts...empty pails' brimming with projectile notions.

And the profiteers of this religion would love to add your pail to their growing collection...their traditions long to stack your shiny bucket amongst the rest, filling one with the inclusion of another, making curved towers of devoid metal pails, and standing atop these delicate congregations.

Truthfully the simple bucket has never been so fulfilled, suddenly content to serve as mere component, now comforted by the many others which are stacked around and over it...together...towers of empty faith.

Compile the little pails by the thousands, and finally a great pyramid had been erected for the "Master."

So elevate "Him," you shiny buckets, with your donations and ordinary participation. Feel one another, as his larger weight stands over you all. Nicely done...pretty pails...for you serve the cause of a higher order, and "His," voice will be the rattle of your entire din...this false religion.

What a waste though, really...buckets filling buckets, when any one container could hold the essence of loving life...to the brim. Because pails were made for precious cargo, and they have the capacity to transfer such riches anywhere, quelling distant fires...quenching thirsty mouths...filling hungry minds.

There will be no sand-castles for our children now...for their pails are lost, hollow, and stacked together...devoid of the creative, wasted vessels,,, once youthful and divine.

Hear them now? Empty, hollow pails...they rattle most!