Religion fit to last

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A voice within cries out, distressed, to see you taste the fruit,
forbidden by your God and creed, respected since your youth:
"Prodigal, I'll fight in you, restore your faith to thrive.
I'll bring you back within the fold. Without you can't survive.
Without you can't survive!"

"You'd loose the bond of family!" your instinct diatribes.
Decide: Be shunned to wilderness, or rest in harmless lies.
Act against evolvéd traits? Your logic might agree,
but in your gut, you crave not truth, you crave community.
You crave community!

If earthly fears don't faze you, try a sample of Pascal:
A slim chance of unfathomed bliss is worth more than your all.
Walk along the Roman Road, elude eternal pain.
Salvation's path is markéd well, with brimstone in the drain,
with brimstone in the drain:

Step one: believe, O wretch, your life is worthless, justly lost,
and second: faith's your only hope, at seemingly no cost!
Third, since faith is proved by work, pay up in duties due:
Two hands on plow, and don't look back, for Brother's watching you.
Your God is watching you!

Heed not the sluggish, skeptic thought, the votes have all been cast.
Religions of today are the religions fit to last.
Members true through power, fear, or friendly company
rebuke again their wayward young, "Eat not from yonder tree."
"Eat not from yonder tree!"

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