Cult

The rope once tight enough
must be led with gently.
A too tight run
like hell away from here
could choke a guy to death.

Worse than this life.
What we once believed
is always true. We pray
and wait for the answer
of a tightening noose.

Tightening. Feeling. Still. Unless
we pull our whole self up
on the lap of the strangler
to offer ourselves to him
in this endless paradigm.

We fear
not believing in fear
of life and death
and what we must give up
to give in.

Minds convinced
of what our hearts are not.
Death
as certain as this understanding
between us.