Rocks

This poem is based on my view of religious beliefs and what I feel many do to people. I know this poem may not be accepted for it's subject matter but it is what I got.

In observing the pedestrians
On this path with me,
My attention is drawn to the interactions
Between them and what their eyes
Have been focused
On.
Of all things these people
Could be focused on,
I see them looking at mere
Rocks as if
Of meaning,
And I catch them tripping
Over these rocks
Time and time
Again,
Face planting the pavement
And causing unbearable
Scrapes and lacerations
To the face.
To me it seems
To be such a true
Act of foolishness;
To allow one's self
To be tripped up
By a rock,
To just allow something
So weak and insignificant
Inflict so much pain and confusion
Upon them,
Yet still be their entire
Existence.
But as I watch these people live,
My attention is drawn
To those who surround
Them,
Those that keep telling them
What to do and how to do
It;
Those of great influence to them.
They yell in their ears,
Pushing their ideas
In many ways
But the messenger always
Deals an absolute,
Declaring the rocks as truth
And what we need to bow ourselves
To.
What I find so funny
Is these people seem to be tripping
Over the very same rocks.
They inject the absurd belief
That these rocks that cause
So many to stumble
Are in fact the correct way to follow
This path.
To me the idea is truly crazy
And it is not sensible
To believe that an object such as a rock
Is a path,
When a path is followed and pursued,
Not just one point.
But these rocks give a sense
Of meaning,
They make the path seem more stable.
To give all one has to these rocks gives a sense of power over
What lies at the end of this path;
If one is just stuck at one place on the path
Then they will never have to see
What is in front of them.
But walking on a rock will eventually
Lead to the ground against one's
Face.
In the end,
It doesn't make any sense.
Such an infection
Has rotted the minds
Of a great multitude for many
Generations,
Leaving so many people
Lost,
Confused,
And in the dark.
This infection has made simple life
And it's pleasures,
Objects of fear.
This fear keeps people in a place
Where they are much like a child,
Alone in the dark,
Afraid to go to the bathroom
Because some monster will
Eat them.
Truth is not discovered in dogma,
But is attained through one's
Own pursuit.
We are all pushing forward
In the same direction,
All towards a greater
Truth.
But a rock is not an alternative
To that path,
But one point that brings
People to a complete
Stop and in the end,
The destination is lost through
The smothering blanket
Of ideas with no proof.
So the rocks have to be swept
Away and we must become
Aware of the light ahead,
Face forward,
Then see what is there.
When we stop
Stopping and walk
Forward,
Steps are taken,
Ground is gained,
And we are no longer left
In the dark.
But I guess that is a choice we have to make
When we become aware of what's on the other
Side of darkness.

Author's Note

I need input on this poem and what I need to work on.