That Fading Glory

People call it doubt
But it feels like disappointment
When knowledge of the way of things
How things work
How they happened
Winnows away frivolous doctrine
And only unarguable truth remains

People call it wisdom
But it feels like weariness
Having lived long enough to see
Transcendent bliss revealed as neurosis
While real wisdom is ignored,
To painful to be spoken, or believed.

Is it corporate worship,
Or mass hypnosis
When sentiments are repeated until
They become Canon
When music is programmed for effect
Not according to the guidance of God;
When grief hides in shame behind a smile?

I have seen genuine joy give rise to dancing,
Genuine obedience result in healing
Genuine knowledge give fruit in contrition
Genuine worship refresh the anguished heart.
Discomfort with liturgy is fleeting.
Genuine communion is eternal,
When it happens.