Dead Ritual

Stress, Pressure, its time to relieve opium’s obligation to the people’s public,

with your bowing hands and kiss to the altar, or some other similar action,

masses pass the yoke to break the necks of the young and impressionable,

hammered in your head, this necessary belief, this pulling burden and to escape the grasping fit,

of those not understanding your necessary beauty given by heaven’s touch,

long hours pass with drawls of image based stances past the open gate,

How I have longed for more than distracted notions of how I can’t make this up,

what have I missed when my prayer so formulated with ‘our father’ so misused?

How Am I to escape this performance based dance that will end in blistered feet and

broken limbs? What will I say or do that is worthy of your crushing condemning words?

I cannot escape this maze cornered in Empire structured foor wall buildings, that bears earthly glare,

that tells me that i’m not worthy that there is some 400 stair step I might climb,

but that leads to nowhere….. At the end of that I find myself strangely level as before,

Recieving what you’ve given me and how your still loving me drives me mad,

I’m decieved by lies telling me that I’m unworthy, I’m captured by shame that is deeply hidden,

that tells me of inferiority,

It is not me, It is fully who you’ve told me you are, but that we bear your image and not to be ashamed,

for why did Adam Hide with quickened run? And why with such disdain? Knowing Truth and Evil

He was blinded by his descion to know not love, For worldly knowledge hides perfection,