“This is all a parlor trick. You lovely statues are liars,” she whispers into cave vapors,
pressing her finger to the ear of the temple god made of earthly stone.

“Look at the lengths to which we humans will go in the act of assigning meaning to a world of happenstance.”

The deity has no response, nor would it ever, no matter what was said.

The sacred record player scratches vinyl to it’s death.

Lantern flames cease to dance.

She turns her back to the idol and the promise of a waiting heaven.

Her feet step to avoid the bones and rotting meat of sacrificial lambs who had come before her as she makes her way back to the entrance.

“We are nothing, we mean nothing, we are here for no good reason, and we are miraculous for it. The beauty and freedom of that is lost in all this fuss…this superstitious need for locusts, devils, and bloody rain.”

The deity maintains it’s silence.

She emerges into the light shouting, “Yeah, that’s what I thought you would say…”