We Who Once Believed The World Was Flat

And war perpetuates,
While I struggle with sleep
and over indulgence
Murder, horror
And I can only be sympathetic
I won’t insult with claims of empathy
Far away, I just don’t feel it
The chaos in my life may grip my existence at times, but it has never shaken the earth
I’ve drowned out the hymns,
siren songs,
that still draw men onto the rocks
We let Books age, and ideas age,
but I would like to grow old too
Without the cross of creed bearing down on my young life
How long can you die for tradition,
before you stop letting sepia stained psalms strike the life from tomorrow’s children?


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