A mass of contradiction

not knowing faith from fiction

my unbelief staggers


like a half-drunk falling his way home

Its past midnight

we have gone from dusk to doom

we haunt those greying temples

seeking an ancient wisdom

or maybe just a room

Unbelief turns

as even a worm will do

allowing belief to settle in

confident in its being

all-knowing in its logos

But even such belief

can be beggared

torn like a shroud

til only pathos remains

like ashes after the cremation


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