His Procession

“And ye shall overthrow their altars, and break their pillars, and burn their groves with fire.” Deuteronomy 12:3

On this precipice, the eight stairs stare

Up.. Each.. Step.. the procession goes..

Haunted, though this house may be

By lost brothers, sisters, and deities,

Children like us were driven forward

Prodded, our parents and guardians

Drove us upward, by sins never atoned

Knowing that which cannot be known

With fear at our backs, whipping along..

Shaking my hand, a man leads us inside

Through the cellar door we thought

Went.. up.. but took us to the depths

Where we met the Unknown, He

Spoke to us through knowing men

Who showed us the pathway through

Brambles like hell for lying with them

Where those led astray would be trapped

Therein, entwined souls with earthly whims..

Women had done this, they were to blame

Processions of men would put out the flames

Just one way to save them, to put out the sin:

Sacrifice thyself on the Altar of Men.

Thou shalt have no other God before Him

Or so they say, “Him, Our One Truth”

O, Great pronouncer of pronouns,

Savior from our fears, give us your truth

Leaven us so that we leave this cellar fermented

Ready to spread your toxic seed

And in procession, bring you harvest..

Fear of the Unknown’s a rational one,

None such as when fermented by Truth

Like fire and toxin, doubt and pain,

Replace it with Truth, it all goes away

Back behind us, where He always goes

Driving on the procession..

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