Some call us “atheists without balls.” I look at them with pity, at times, with a smile, as that is only but a reflection of how slander keeps defacing the need for understandings. I won’t speak for others. I’ll only speak for me and what goes for me as agnosticism.
Being philosophically aware of the frailty of my senses, I should be honest and humble enough to accept what I know, what I do not know, what I cannot know I know or don’t know and if possible, take into account possibilities, probabilities that could be true considering the inescapable fallibility I’m shielded around with, with or without choice. It’s for this reason, that I call myself agnostic. Till one knows both ends for himself beyond reasonable doubt which could be flawed anyway, one will smile, at how far one’s intellectual humility has created diverse waves of appreciating life in its entirety.
Detached from the warring factions, then can I understand why they see only a part that feeds the illusion of the perceived opposites responsible for the war, in the first place. O man, chained to find his way in chains that could be delusive. How does he live? Only by faith, only by the bet is his virtue the needed end. Time will tell, he says to himself, as though he can be certain it would. In thoughts, he loses himself as if he were an element diffused all around the cosmos, at contradictory stations all meant to create harmony and discord. I can’t find me. Till we meet again. Will we meet? Okay bye.