I worship several gods, but practice no orthodoxy.

Aesir, Kemetism, of aOdin All father and Sobek, and my heart for Anubis, guardian of souls, do I occasionally pay my prayers.

But I look back.

The Calvary Chapel, Christian. I converted after a fearful movie about Armageddon, and fear was my faith, not love. Fear of hell, of sin, of going wrong. How the thoughts affected my sexual life that lingers even more, of occasional flashes that I do wrong and am being judged.

I once wanted to be a priest, but the bible turned me from faith.

Not the words of Christ, spoken with forgiveness and love and enduring evil that you might be a beacon of light for others, but words of hate.

The gospel of Paul, who hated. Of Mark, who wrote dirty. Of poetry there was little, of beauty, even less. That all beauty was seen as evil of the world is fleeting and shouldn't be taken in for what it is.

The night I freed myself was hard and terrifying but also it was enlightening. My burden lifted. I went. But it was good.

Now, I worship gods in opposition, and I'm amused by the words off my old faith, to see the hate there, the bigotry between the lines. My Gods sigh and shake their head, and tell me to not concern with a little god with little worshippers. But they also warn to never misjudge an enemy.

But I still look with sadness, at those who I loved, and see them wallow in their great fear and hate.

While I bask in love.