Our own most often
Do us more harm
Than hands foreign
We so blame.
Caught in the net
Of demands and deceits
Dreams decay
Under the weight of obedience.
Too much expectation,
The pressure and intrusion
Block all the way out
To god's green
Where beauty and freshness bloom.
Like the greedy gluttony of priests
Who seduce the hope of a pilgrim,
The cobwebs of helplessness
And sorry figure the kinsmen spin,
Bring forth all possible ruin.
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