“The Real Book”
In the hallowed halls of ancient thought, where gods and mortals intertwine, A fervent whisper echoes forth, “My god is greater than thine.”
The faithful gather, hearts ablaze, each clutching their sacred scrolls, their scriptures inked with fervent praise, their truths etched deep in souls.
But who’s to say which tale is true, Which deity holds the cosmic key? Is it Zeus, Odin, or Vishnu, Or the Christ who walked by Galilee?
The skeptic scoffs, “Your myths are quaint, Mere echoes of a bygone age.” Yet believers stand, unwavering saints, their faith a fire that cannot fade.
“My Bible,” cries one, “is pure and real, A beacon in this murky night.” Another retorts, “Nay, mine’s the ideal, Guiding souls toward eternal light.”
And so, they clash, these fervent hearts, in theological debate’s embrace, their words like arrows, seeking marks, Defending their sacred space.
But what if truth transcends their creeds, Beyond the parchment, ink, and lore? What if God’s essence defies our needs, And love’s the key to heaven’s door?
For in the quiet of a moonlit night, Beneath the stars’ celestial dance, Perhaps the Real Book isn’t black or white, But the universe’s whispered romance.
So let us seek the common thread, The golden rule that binds us all, and find in love the path we tread, regardless of the names we call.
For gods may differ, scriptures too, yet love remains our common song, and in that truth, both old and new, we find where all our hearts belong. RC