Seemed, somehow, to them, of the light.
It spoke of truths unknown to erring men,
Gave a wider reference of forgiveness
With fruits, statuettes and lamps,
Gilded unread books, and one clear
Memorable lesson: You are home.
Its explanations were as weapons to the pious
As they brooked no opposition or resistance,
Though they seemed to wave everyone through
With munificent hand.
It was laughable
To the devils on the outside, but we are all
Endowed with the great gift to oh-so-easily
Turn anything we seek into the truth,
Oh and so much rides upon the illusion
Of seeing reality as we want it to be,
We'll act out the martyr without the slightest clue
We've been the oppressor too, and that, in fact,
Is what wounds, for the ones who say "fuck you"
Complete us more than any lover could,
For it gives us a reason to be separate,
As eccentric and free as a thought.
That is why the doors shut tight
And only a low hum and incense escape.
The smiles inside burst with love,
The thoughts are all of heaven,
The words have been honed like a strip of pine:
We are lost
And want to do this all again.
