It's always the irony.
Non-saints loathing the proclaimed sinners, breeding condemnation.
And I'm widening the irony,
wondering why the already condemned are busy condemning.
Sons of Herod viciously mangling the sons of Sodom.
Their so called righteousness licensing this deed.
It's also the denial.
Deeds and words all in effort of a clear conscience,
apparently it is all that matters.
And daily before it dawns, the big matter is evaded,
the fact that none is good, not even the one from Nazarene, but for the Sower of His Seed.
So eventually the stability is left to hypocrisy,
A crime that cannot be convicted.
But thy neighbor thy hand,
You probably don't know, but get you to understand.
Their pain will never be your gain, even though you'll never relate.
You might think otherwise, but deeply it isn't so. Tiny is our big world, complexity is the soul of the human,
and many things will forever be out of our control.
So let loving-kindness eternally rule your heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem