Goddess? Nature personified, they say,
Gloating, as the world falls in disarray.

Appreciate what she has done for us!
And all with no intent, for she just does,
Giving no thought to plans beneficent;
Yet Moses’ God, with mind omniscient,
Could plan to cure His froward children’s ill
With seven angels, all but a few to kill.

Omniscient Gods alone expect belief
While drenching all around in abject grief,
Demanding thankful hymns as they destroy,
And making sins of what we should enjoy.
The Goddess, though, is neutral to our fate
And evolved love that we might procreate.

There are no sins, except ingratitude
Our life is but too brief an interlude,
And using it to harm our virgin earth,
The Goddess’ womb from which we had our birth.

In this, our certain life, they’re discontent,
And pray in selfish hope and sentiment
To enjoy everlasting life elsewhere
(As tangible as any wish or prayer
Which is to say, it lives within a head
And disappears for good when one is dead).

Who can, when dead, expose the priestly lie?
For life departs us all when once we die,
A snowflake gem we catch upon our sleeve
But melts away, whatever we believe.

Appreciate this gem while She allows,
And look with joy on Nature’s Golden Boughs.
And saw no more upon the bough you sit,
For when you fall Nature won’t care a bit.

Yet Her kind breast we suck in infant needs;
Hers is the womb from which all life proceeds;
And, in Her universe, who are we?
Nothing but plankton in Her endless sea;
No End-of-all-that-is, a polyp’s bud
Upon an endless reef of bad and good.

Our lives will tell which of the two we chose,
Whether awake or whether comatose.
The Patriarch’s legend measures our worth;
Heaven or Hell is what we make the earth.
They make it Hell and pray for salvation;
Thank God! they cry, For Christianization!

Not for us harmful and selfish fantasies:
Goddess, we love your earth, your sky, your trees.
We dance and chant our awe of Nature’s troves
’Neath vaults of stars and moon, in silent groves,
Then small we feel in Your infinity,
Our arrogance becomes humility,
For then we stop and know that blest are we
With Nature’s awesome gifts, and Blest is She!