Black Steeple


Would you take a dime or two, for good feelings follow through, would you love so far and wide, give and talk it as you lied.  Would you visit a foreign land dripping Christ upon the sand, would you feel you’d done your part stab a pagan in their heart.  Would your ego cry a tear, just to assuage your spiritual fear, would you ignore your home on fire, just to feel good in the dark?  Would your charity create on lands away while your child begs to play, would you call a dog your kid, while a human starves to live?  Would you call a tree your friend while, we near the driven end, would you discuss what you’ve done in those priceless gifts you gave, while so many lie in graves. Would you chastise those who see, while you drive them to their knees? Oh black steeple, shrine of man, fallen Balaam, curse be damned.

Would you conquer with your fear, challenge logic far and near, would you steal a holiday, call it sacred in your way. Would you worship three unknown, call each religion your own, would you call a faith a need, then define a mustard seed. Would you seek to master craft, call it healing, that never last. Would you send your cash and bread, to a people you haven’t met, while your neighbor rapes his wife, and you turn a blinded eye. Would your channel prayers of cheer to a man you really fear. Would you live a different life, one in public, one in strife, would you say you give your all, while you’re selfish pleasures call? Would you measure guilt and shame, hide your treasure in your blame, would you wear your Sunday best, ignore the burden of the rest. Oh black steeple, shrine of man, fallen Balaam, curse be damned. דָּנִיֵּאל 03.13.2014


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