There must be something wrong with me

And the king ordered that the goatherd and his family be lodged in the chamberlain’s palace, and the chamberlain in the goatherd’s hut; and recommended the moral of this tale to all who heard it.
The Good Book. Parables. 21:20. Made by A. C. Grayling (2016)

There must be something wrong with me to doubt
the words brought under a secular banner.

There must be something wrong with me to see
neither the kind poor nor the selfish rich, but a ruthless monarch
who dictates the fate of his subjects at whim.

There must be something wrong with me to think
that replacing a cleric with a sage solves all my dilemmas.

But when even the Scriptures have allowed themselves one sceptic,
isn’t incredulity our duty?

Always a breed of life

The day I died would be the first day of my life.
After all, a man’s life never truly begins
until he reaches the climax of his story,
or so the scriptures say.

I guess mine begins with a smell, and believe me,
enuresis is no laughing matter, at least not when you are twelve
and have to survive three weeks at a scout camp
while your first crush lives in the next tent.

If memory serves, it was also around that time
that I started taking liberties with certain parts
of my body. But it doesn’t really matter,
because one day you will bury this skeleton
of feeble memories with me.

The day I died would be the first day of my life
as you know it.