The threshold of faith is doubt; the precise moment the fairytale needs a speck of someone else's blood. To keep it alive. A sacrifice of sorts. To the godless God of all religions.
Every religion has a ceremonial water element; the washing of hands. The bloody hands of saints.
I'm thankful to God, if he exists, for denying me a mother but making me an atheist. Its a trade only a higher benevolent being could bestow on a human.
