As I look around me in our world today, I see signs of hell. As faith flickers out, hell's despair spreads. What I see is a waste land
of despair. People clamoring for possessions; power and position; passions inflamed and so much violence and anger. Underneath it all,
there is a pervasive hopelessness fueling it all. It is often said that being possessed is rare. I am not sure that is true.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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