Today the bricks are coming loose,
and even from a distance you can see
the rot taking hold.
It is too far gone, this temple
you have worshiped at
with its fear and its promise,
this place, once so seductive with its promises
and aura of eternity.
You have watched it from inside,
brick by slow brick, the mortar that held it
proving false as the first dawn.
You have seen what neglect leaves behind:
things stripped of their beauty and used,
cut to size and shapes that are unnatural,
left to live in the dark,
just another sacrifice,
left with little more than illusion and scars,
what, if anything,
They will try and hold you, these temple-keepers,
for without their hate, without their control,
they are nothing.
They will promise your ending, the day you leave
the fetid worshiping grounds behind,
and they believe it.
Their lies about your weakness told so often,
so well, with such passion
that even they believe it,
never understanding that flowers do not bloom
in dungeons. No.
They need light.
They need water and fertile ground,
honest seasons and an allowing
of the God in them
a place to rise.
About this poem
Too many people are held back in this word. Far, far too many.
PS: Despite the dark tone of the poem, the picture was taken at Disney. Really.