When the heart is desecrate,
Fervour reigns supreme.
No prayerful heart ever requires
A temple for esteem.
Love is a beggarly itinerant
And seeks for love abroad;
Loving beggars show scant pursuit
Of temple, mosque, or god.
Those that hate must first destroy
Another’s house of prayer;
Then build their temple brick by brick
On a frenzy of gleeful fear.
Greater the guilt more the gold
That devotees bequeath
To idols who cannot berate
From behind the golden wreath.
O for shrines of nakedness
That encumbrances shun;
No prayer may ever be more telling
Than that of naked men.
ZNetwork is funded solely through the generosity of its readers.
Donate