The heathen gods

Heathen gods demand sacrifices. And we, their humble worshippers and servants, are ready to oblige. If fiery Moloch demands a child, we give him a child, our very own, if it makes him happy. We give anything to please Moloch, to appease the wrath of any god that rules above us, to have a good crop. Good gods, that love us so much. Cruel, wretched gods, that demand everything while giving nothing in return. They demand worship. They demand adoration. They demand routines. They demand sacrifice - and sacrifice has many forms. It can be more than a slaughtered lamb in the altar, or a child bin the burning entrails of a golden idol. Sacrifice is to give away the place at home with the best light to build a shrine. Sacrifice is to offer them everything we do. Sacrifice is to accept their wrath, without question. Without rebellion. Sacrifice is to thank them for the food in our table when it came from our own hard work, and not from their good graces. Sacrifice is to give away everything that they disapprove, that they consider sinful. Is to allow them to tell us how we must live. Sacrifice is when we become our own slaughtered lamb.

One day I'll learn how to kill my own heathen gods.