The point?

What is the point of faith in Him,
When life in peace feels whole within?
Religion waged uncounted wars,
Left graves behind and locked to mars.

The Beatles sang—imagine we
No gods, no chains, no boundary.
No heaven, hell, or lands in fight,
Lennon too, on December eight

No God, no faith, no angels near,
No whispered prayers, just empty years.
No Christmas bells, no Easter morn,
Only the void where we were born.

Should I still ask, or let it be?
Ignore it all and make my tea?
Perhaps in silence, we will find
The peace we crave, the calm of mind.

So I will sit, and sip my tea,
Let questions rest and set them free.
For in the asking lies the key,
And peace, the truth that waits for me.