Helpless

No, I don’t like the pollution

That floats in the air around me

In the world and

In this garden

In fact, in my core I hate it

But I can’t do anything about it.

I can’t even shout about it.

I’m helpless.

Dishonesty that is seated

On the throne

So arrogantly

Wearing the crown

And falsehood that cheats

The sweating bodies and bones

Of their legitimate wages

 I abhor the abomination

In the sacred temple

But I cannot move my hand

I am tied tight with multiple chains.

My child is in their jail

The cruel wizard has the power

Over me to blackmail

My mind revolts against

The corruption covered with

 a deceitful honeyed smile

But my voice has been choked

I am throttled constantly

With my back to the wall

Only my mind is free to think

My soul is free to hope

One day chosen by heaven

A ray of lightning will shatter

 the grip of iron chains

and purify the garden from

the foul polluted  unhealthy air

O Holy Spirit, let it be soon

Maranatha!

Xavier Bage

Thurs, Oct 27, 2016