Swamps of Sadness

As Artax sinks in the Swamp of Sadness
We all reached for our inner Atreyu

One generation had god
Declared
Love freely handed
Success is divine intercession
Heavenly magic
Sprinkled onto lives
Benedictions bashing
Misfortunes
To the proverbial curb
With the angels
Lifting us up
As long as bedtime
Rituals on the knees
Are maintained

The morphing
Into adulthood
Into a sadist
Architects of our own
Progeny
Who confess openly
To ensuing generations
There is no true god
You have free will
Know your worth
The luminosity of the light
Is all yours
Crafting confused babies
Struggling
Against currents

One
With spiritual airbags
Another
An astronaut
Spinning in the blackness
Untethered
Both hauling
Statements of worth
Lacking divination
Tendons of sorcery
Severed

We are victims
Of persuasive training
Desperately attempting
To separate
Truancy of the sentiments
That were saddled
Upon us
In an age
Where every dark corner
Of our cortices
Was misrepresented and debased
By those that came before us

Now the illusion is gone
god is us
Destiny is no longer
Intuited
While we leaned
Against the infallible
They now struggle
As nonbeings
With the knowledge
That failures
Are their own
Happiness
Prosperity
Theirs to capture
Or surrender
No safety nets in place

Perhaps we have errored
Now it is them that sink into the Swamp of Sadness
Reaching for their inner Atreyu
Only to discover
How bitter
Quicksand tastes