Thank god

I am a Hindu.
I was stepping inside
a mosque; thought
I was inside a Church.
Both were religions of
fewer Gods, great violence.

There! I was caught
by me, wearing a Hindu
hat, I thought. For stories
of bloodshed among
the gods and goddesses 
happen here more often.

All are different.
All the same.

Religion has nothing
to do with what people
had done with it,
I thought.

I dressed like a Muslim,
ate like a Christian,
prayed like a Hindu.

Staged with the make-up,
I forgot what I was made of,
the soil and the soul.

I dreamt of a strange shift,
each follower realized that
theirs was the worst,
the fight was equally worse;
I ran out of breath.

A curious caricature of 
reverse epicaricacy, maybe. 

I popped out of my shell,
in a minute, went back
straight into the cell,
closed from all corners,
comfortable as hell.
I promised to seek an exit
from the inertia of habit.

For a splash,
in the twinkling of
an in-and-out,
I experienced heaven
I could dispense the trash,
the superfluous burden.

Free from the designed sting,
for a second, thank god,
I felt like a human being.