Confined in their small dark space
Prayer and service describe their inner conviction
As they welcome the dawn of oaths, raised hopes and long veils to life
The promise that binds the urge and desire
The persistence and determination that burns the fire
The ordination that set the direction n motion
In preparation for the mandatory daily devotion
It is of modern priests that sleep and partake feasts with kids
Whose lives are choked with weed and greed
Throwing the celibate fate to the waters
Undressing the borrowed robes of worship
Living a life of regret and pain
As the traces and scars get septic
Flapping the wings of denial and shame
Regretting the choice, feeling dejected and rejected
Maybe it’s the civilized sect of Pharisees
That spread, bred and feed the gutter
Exchanging free blessings with butter
As they wine and dine with the sisters of on night shift
Yet preparing for a sermon at dawn, thee thanksgiving service
Else it’s the young exposed priests of today
That predict of the impending floods
That throw the dogma to the dogs
Tearing, degenerating and rephrasing tradition
For its priests as such that hurry to marry
Burying their belief, faith into the gully
Creating a cocktail of shame and ridicule to the devoted
Lest the church loses its direction
No comments:
Post a Comment