Easter

William Farley

The son rose—
there was no alternative
if you believed the book.

It became a bestseller
in the trade of selling eternity,
promising the soul release
from a man-made tyranny.

People signed on to the promise.

A dynasty wears many names;
still the game remains:
believe in me
and you will be free.

From the beginning
we gathered—
at the setting sun,
under the rising moon—
staring into a light
we could not explain.

We sought protection
from what frightened us:

beasts in the dark,
echoes in the wind,
waters rising into floods—
we bargained with the unseen.

Control was scarce.
So we were offered a choice:
serve a god
or serve a king.

Surrender brought little
to the life at hand,
but the promise held—
a future unburdened
by the weight of being.

Don’t weep.
The task remains:

put away the vengeful gods,
and raise the divine within us.

William Farley copyright 2026