I mean this with all due respect. I am curious what this has to the word 'sport' - possibly a usage I'm not familiar with.

It's a lovely poem - kinda piques my existentialist kink. However, I was bothered by trying to connect it to the word 'sport.'

*smiles with a chuckle... thank you for being honest...

'sport' can be made into anything - it is a game - it is a back and forth - it is making fun of something... in this case, the title sets the stage - 'Religious Sport'

The first line is reflective of one of my favorite cartoons by Gahan Wilson, where a fellow stumbles into a room where the word 'nothing' is displayed upon an alter and people in black robes are worshiping it - and he yells out, 'IS NOTHING SACRED?!'

*hugs...

V.

Ohhhh, got it! Thank you for clarifying!

Never a problem Mouse...

V.

Is Nothing sacred?

Bunners

Yessssssss... and I couldn’t find it!

V.

I am a river to my people.

Bunners

"As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; They kill us for their sport."

-- Shakespeare, King Lear, Act IV, Scene 1

and that, kind sir, is well met...

V.

It fit your story perfectly.

“Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.” - Homer, The Iliad

History!!!! Lovely find Hania!

V.

Another excellent piece. Much like the tree that falls in the forest, does it make a sound if there is no one there to hear it?

We assume that it does through our collective experience, but what was the sound?

And if it fell on a mime would any of us care?

ROFL... poor mimes...

V.

Deep.....and thought provoking.

*smiles very big... you get it, and a hug for getting it too...

V.

Today was in the low 60's so, after church and Sunday brunch, I got in 65 miles of three-wheeled therapy. I told the Boss Lady that something must have sunk in over the winter because it felt perfectly normal from the moment I got on until I got off. Probably won't have another chance for a couple weeks now.

I am envious... but then again, I get to watch my garden grow...

V.

Hmm tis an interesting assumption... for some it would cause great contemplation of such ideas... for others it would cause little if any of them to tarry about... for it seems to be a sport to to cause some to pause and reflect then wonder why there is lint in their navel.

so very true...

V.

like an old piece of pizza dough fallen on thee floor to petrify...

V.

This reminds me in an odd way of The Sound of Silence, if you've
ever heard of the song.

I grew up on that song... and thank you...

V.