Minds accumulate their own stores of belief
Harvesting words
To squeeze dry in the press
Crushing
The kernel of hypothesis
To dress the salad of their joy or grief
And strange
The extreme unctions that accrue
The charms embraced
The flaring phlogiston of the untenable
The slick fiction
The wilful self-deception
The skewed view
Perhaps at times these drizzlings serve us well
Inspiring us
To think and act with grace
Reminding mortals to beware of vice
Or prompting oddness
Quaint and fanciful
But rancid oil embitters and pollutes
And hatred can ignite
Once holy balm
Releasing hellish fury like napalm
To raze
What it dogmatically refutes
For each established 'truth'
That we believe
Shouts crude anathema to other minds
Grant us the inner process that refines
The oils that we inherit and bequeathe
by Mike Ellwood
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