the void does not promise,
it simply is,
a mouth that never moves,
a hand that never signs.
if one asks it for meaning,
it gives one one's echo.
if one begs it for rules,
it shows one one's shadow.

dogma comes dressed
in gold-plated lies,
"follow and flourish!"
"obey and rise!"
it builds one a prison
and calls it a home.
it sells one a future,
it carved from one's bones.

the void?
it stays silent.
no contracts,
no chains.
no heaven to reach for,
no hell to escape.

dogma demands
one's knees and one's trust.
the void just watches
as one's eat the dust.
dogma says "build here."
void says "dig."
dogma builds altars.
void eats the priests.
dogma trades "life later."
void collects "now."
one will choke on dogma’s banquets.
one will starve on void’s fast.

so choose now,
but know,
dogma feeds one a script,
the void remains
a mirror
where one is the crypt.
dogma needs a follower.
void never did.