Ire On Cross Sect_I_On Spire Pyre Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Black books some find
grant ease of mind,
responsibility
remove behind
veiled burkha blind,
bewailing liberty.

Life should be led,
shared, free from lead
respectability,
What lies ahead?
Hell? lies, instead
seems crass conformity.

Lip service paid
by man or maid
to bias, bigotry,
replace game played,
joy unafraid,
with sects that narrow be.

Turn more to hope
for increased scope
throughout life's comedy,
beware time's rope
that hangs who grope
for creeds rarely agree
on godhead fair
with love to spare,
or core divinity.
Seek self, truth's there,
'ware cupboards bare,
wraith faiths' fatuity.