Grieve the sorrows of why…

of how…

the behavior’s nook,

the spot what panders to

sure release of tears to drain,

empty your heart of troubles

retained…

know when the Mosque empties

the teaching spirit still remained,

see the mosaics of handiwork…

centuries of craftsmen’s toil that

lifted license to hope so frail,

to stall and wane to idle… cause

of circumstance and will…

draw the veil, draw the veil

to Temple’s rants of anger… peace

discussed once long ago…

who would know love of brother’s release,

the way to protect and act as honey

flowed, milk should sour… faith to cease,

what little edifice or building for

Chapel come… the word denied and tried,

more now to brimstone come…

and hate be done

until all have bowed and cried,

this thirst by curse to sell one’s

soul for goal of power denied,

this the return of why…

of how…

the behaviors contained within

our souls,

the Inquisitor released to budding

desires and taste of power…

fondle not the moment to savor

for well is not here… not this hour,

no time to waste or to dwell

on past as basis for your Ivory tower,

this is the fallow ground unearthed

by all to spare the other’s heart,

shunned has been the wisdom to rely

on any but yourselves and art,

to your failed religions… the wake,

servitude to rest on mediocrity by start,

this to grieve the sorrows of why…

of how…

to behavior’s nook,

the spot what panders to

sure release of tears to drain.

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