They say hate is required
to define a state of mind
for the self or other ones
only then will purpose shine
nothing less is a fraud
pretending towards the greater goal
set aside by the holy saints
now enforced by strident imps
joyful that righteousness
found a place to lay its head
safe from those without cuts
that deny godliness
the diagnosis will depend
on the bleeding from the wounds
more for the best after all
when injuries are surely bless
where the gate should open wide
the guardians hide the key
as the test falls too short
or exceeds the latitude
that those who pass beyond the walls
are truly wounded and then absolved
the see the hurt in the world
as the measure for the all.
© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.20190514.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem