Marx was only partially correct in his assertion that "Religion is the
opium of the masses," for it is not only religion but also the way our
imagination uses fantasy and narrative that numbs our thoughts. The
fairytale, by asserting itself as the magnificent false-reality, hides
the magnificence of the "everyday world" from the masses. It seems
that the mind has not evolved to deal with Truth, but rather with the
practicalities of survival. For it is far easier to survive when your
mind is not open to the brilliance of the universe.

It is myth that has dominated the minds of people since the advent of
settled society. It is myth that allows us to be blind to the
beauty of life. And it is myth that allows us to destroy ourselves
practically unknowingly; it is the power of fantastic myths that
allows societies to sleepwalk through their own collective suicide.
And as luck will have it, myth disappears as soon as it is absolutely,
and practically, necessary for it to do so. Just as the knife is
about to seperate the layers of flesh before the heart, the cyclops
will wake and come to life (to sadly find the myriad world-shattering damage that has been done without his noticing).

Marx had his moments to speak against religion - the cause he may have seen to be a negative force in his society, while he neglected the cause that was probably also working on him. The trouble is that myths seem better than harmless - they seem to only do us good. For how could the utilization of our imagination be a negative thing? How could reading a book do damage? People forget that books were the televisions of yesteryear, and that oral stories were the televisions of yester-yesteryear. So convenient to forget such facts, especially when forgetting them seems only to help us thrive.