Poezja

 
With dread abounding thus assemble the heirs
With all glee came the humbled Jealous.
Mixing their joy with fear they worshiped
The jealous god of whom they loved yet shrouded.
“Come to the Temple” was their cry of despair
“Come to the Temple of our god”
“Come and join his elite” they exclaimed,
“Come lest on you he trod!”
To take away guilt they provided the blame
Commanding to love but only those whom they name.
And what will bring glory and what will bring shame
And how the weak minded hoard there, playing their game.
Wiley words they spring up to the heavens as if god was impressed.
Yet in the lone closet of prayer they detest.
And focus on those who entertain best.
Ah, the Temple,
 Poetic