A Blind Believer
A Poem by Danny Ballan from The Scream Poem Collection
Rumors of a god
roaming around,
taking forms,
shape-shifting
to be seen by all,
then seen no more—
let me follow
let me follow,
let me fall
in love with this new deity
of some unfathomable nature;
creature of the heavens
has been created,
or by hell;
it does not matter—
I have always worshipped
what’s more than me—
let me follow
let me follow,
let me fall
on my knees,
where I can spend my life
going about to please,
going about saying please;
for what I could have done
by myself,
now I have a god
to blame and hold
In contempt—
let me follow
let me follow,
let me fall
to the land of the spirit-honed;
to keep their heads,
they have their minds boned
like a skeleton— all life is gone
but for this cheesy grin—
let me follow
let me follow,
let me fall;
my heart is broken—
my older deity promised
not to break my heart;
many years, and the pieces lying around,
he did not have enough divinity to mend;
he told me it only took my humanity—
I did not buy;
get me another god that can bend
to my mortal wishes and whims,
to my ego and selfishness
in being the only one for whom he attends,
and I will follow this god—
let me follow
let me follow,
let me fall;
for no longer do I believe
I am a god;
no longer do I perceive
I am immortal—
I trusted god after god
to bring back my divinity,
but that defeated the purpose.
Let me do it one more time,
swallow my pride and believe
the rumors of a new god—
let me follow
let me follow,
let me fall.
Poem Insights
A Poem that Questions and Provokes
Danny Ballan’s A Blind Believer is a poem that wrestles with faith, doubt, and the unending human search for meaning. The speaker is caught in a cycle of worship, disappointment, and renewal, always chasing after the next deity, the next divine presence, the next answer. But this poem is not just about religion; it is about the universal human tendency to place faith in something bigger than ourselves, whether it be gods, ideologies, systems, or even people.
The poem carries a haunting rhythm, with its repeated plea: “let me follow, let me follow, let me fall.” These words echo like a mantra, a chant of desperation, of longing, of blind submission. The speaker is not simply searching for truth but is actively surrendering, yearning for something—anything—to fill the void left by the previous deity that failed them. This is not just about spiritual faith but about the human condition itself: the constant need to believe in something beyond ourselves.
Through sharp imagery and poignant repetition, the poem paints the picture of a person who has lost faith in their own power and instead places their fate in the hands of a higher being—only to be let down again and again. The pursuit of a new god is not about enlightenment but about escapism, about avoiding the burden of self-responsibility.
The Nature of Faith and the Power of Belief
What does it mean to believe in something? And why do we so often need something outside of ourselves to define our purpose? The poem presents a paradox: the speaker has lost faith in their own divinity, their own strength, yet continues to seek it in external forces. “For no longer do I believe I am a god; no longer do I perceive I am immortal.” There is a tragic irony here—an acknowledgment that the gods being sought are man-made, yet the search continues. If gods are created by human imagination, does that make them any less real? Or does it make them even more powerful because we breathe them into existence?
We often think of faith as something that empowers, yet this poem portrays faith as something that breaks and rebuilds, over and over again. Is faith meant to make us stronger, or is it simply a cycle of illusion and disillusionment? The speaker wants a god that “can bend to my mortal wishes and whims.” Is that faith, or is it a form of control? Do we truly seek guidance, or do we seek validation for what we already believe?
The Cycle of Worship and Disillusionment
The poem speaks to a deeper human struggle: the need for external validation, the comfort of a structured belief system, and the inevitable letdown when reality does not match expectation. The lines “my older deity promised not to break my heart; many years, and the pieces lying around, he did not have enough divinity to mend” capture the profound disappointment that often follows blind faith. What happens when what we worship fails us? When we realize that the things we have devoted our lives to—be it gods, leaders, philosophies—are flawed or indifferent?
Is it better to keep believing, despite the pain, or to step away and face the terrifying reality of uncertainty? Is faith about truth, or is it about comfort? And if we replace one belief system with another, is that growth or simply a continuation of the same pattern?
The Responsibility of Free Will
One of the most striking elements of this poem is the quiet rejection of personal responsibility. The speaker wants something external to take control, to “blame and hold in contempt.” This brings up another important question: is faith a way of relinquishing accountability? Do we follow gods, systems, or leaders because it is easier than confronting our own agency?
By the end of the poem, there is a reluctant acceptance of human mortality. The speaker has lost faith in their own divinity but still clings to the hope of something greater. “Let me do it one more time, swallow my pride and believe the rumors of a new god.” This is not enlightenment—it is surrender. It is the acceptance that belief, even when flawed, is better than nothing. But is that true? Can we exist without belief? And if not, what does that say about us?
Final Thoughts: What Do We Really Seek?
A Blind Believer forces us to confront uncomfortable questions. Why do we search for gods, new or old? Is faith a prison, or is it a source of freedom? When belief is broken, do we mend it, or do we move on? And if we do move on, are we truly free—or are we just looking for another cage?
The poem doesn’t answer these questions, nor should it. It is not a sermon, nor a conclusion—it is an invitation to think, to reflect, and to question. And perhaps, in that questioning, we may find our own answers—or at least, the courage to keep searching.
This poem is from Danny’s The Scream poem collection, which is available to buy on Amazon.
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