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Poem

Rites and Wrongs  

This write suggests the search of many slants
Pursuing words of truth you hold most clear.
Stand sober toward the charlatans whose rants
Exact belief in those susceptible to fear.

Reflections on the tomes of writers past
Remark agendas with a want to bring
To light the mystic words that prophets cast
Which spread the lofty rumor of a coming King.

A rock holds sway while scratches on a stone
Prescribe the path of hallowed righteousness.
Successors to the dozen set the tone -
The mind that dares diverge invites the hot abyss.

The stream that's meant to wash away the stain
Which nascent blooms bear from the first of breath
Presumes we bleed not pure but earned our pain-
A wrenching debt, but spares an endless tortured death.

We know not why the wind sweeps insolence
Into the space of grayish rooms unseen
And presses some to scoff at reverence
For black-robed shadows knelt and bowed in holy scene.

Lawless acts to shelter sins are fraught
With hushed consort by fiends so likely bent
Who offer haven when their rogues are caught.
Whose shrouded malice deemed a minor, lone event.

But yet the seething silence in the guise
Of those whose offered trust was so defiled
Is broken only by their troubled cries.
A shameful stigma preyed upon them as a child.

So tremble not to dash the age-old trends
With questions bracing your unruly airs.
Yea, stand alone, if need be, from your friends
For surely your slant deems as much respect as theirs..

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