Etc.

My religion is music.
It is the gentle plucking of strings, the gentle wind caressing tall, dark trees.
It is the steady beat of hail, the constant rhythm that we are all a part of.
It reveals itself to all who are in tune, to all who will listen.

My religion is not the worship of a false idol, an obvious work of fiction.
It is not the worship of a god in man's own image, the very symbol of our vanity and irrationality.
It is not us and them, it is we.
It is not the harsh and pompous theme of order, it is the alluring and unpredictable melody of chaos.

My religion is the synchronization with and appreciation of nature.
It is showing reverence towards that which creates and sustains us.
It is the worship of a dying woman, bound and ravaged by those who have lost touch with her, their mother, their keeper, their friend.
No matter how weak, no matter how muffled her heartbeat may be.
It can be heard deep beneath layers of static, the white noise of wasted human lives.
Occasionally, it crawls up through the cracks in the concrete.