There was a time that I thought faith was a weakness. People with no direction needed faith. Those who were to meek to face a harsh world, void of meaning. To stupid to realize what was right infront of thier faces the entire time. Nothing. Death. Darkness. Hopelessness. I was an atheist. I was quite sacure in my disbelief. So dug in. Fortified. Then, quite by accident, I aquired a soul. But had anything really changed. It wasn't untill recently did I understand just how major a fundamental change this was.

I was passing the time as I often do, with a beer in hand listening to my friend banter on. When the topic of God became present in the conversation. It's amazing to me now, how totally obsured I once sounded. They were frighten fetises, cowering in thier mothers womb. All of them. So certain in themselves. They were no better then the ritious christians. So certain. Pertensious. Incredible. Each with there own philosphy on the none existence of god. Of anything other then the material world. It amazed me. I tried to get a word in edge wise, but, alas, they would have none of it.

I am reminded of plato's republic. That last bit about staring at a cave wall, unaware that there's a way out of the cave, or even that the universe existed outside of that cave. Plato wrote that once you see the light of the entrance, and emerged from your prison of ingnorance, you would never be able to return to your former self. That trying to explain what you had seen to the other cave dwellers would be pointless. They would'nt be able to comprehend what you'd seen. And you'd even invoke they're rath against your self, they would punish you for trying to tear they're gaze from the wall. Forcing them to look outside of what was familiar.

I've felt this way before. When I first discovered socialism. No human being under the sun was immune to my returic. I was prepared to force my pinko veiws onto the entire planet. No one listened. Nor should they. I learned something very important at that point. About those poor souls still staring at the inside of the cave. You can't show them the way out. They must discover it on thier own. Or atleast, you have to wait until they ask your help, in finding the exit.

I digress. It's a funny thing about truth. It doesn't exist. All matters of truth are left to a matter of subjectivism. I've come to the conclusion, ultimately, that we create our own universe. Since, in all reality, nothing is real. Just an illusion. An attempt of our mind to produce reason for our dayly ryme. You choose your world. I've chosen to exist in a world of magick. It's for more interesting then a world with out it.

It's funny to hear atheists now. So full of them selves. Billions of soul, hundreds of billions of hours spent in deep reflection, and study, all searching for a means to express there conection with the higher powers. And this rable of young people. Not even a quarter way through there lives. Having the adasity to spit on all that hard work. To question the intellect of those individuals. Was I really ever like that?

I leave you with this. Once, long ago, when I was contenplaiting the world, in my atheist pinko fashion. I wondered, honestly, when I would finally come back to god, not religion. But when I would start listening again to the word. And stop denying my connection with the will of creation. Someday I thought. Once I'd worked all this other stuff out. 1