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Past the murk green veil
My temple has fallen,
such is the misuse of youth and a lack of understanding,
bare are the hills for roaming and to all who will gaze, bloated is land beneath.
None stand before it, to worship or herald belief, it is cold.
Time has not forgotten and faith has slipped away
like the clouds that shape themselves in the night
then go.
Yet beyond the murky green, still, lies the child
wishing his life away unto the star.
No one will hear his voice echo throughout the confines
of this misbegotten church,
be silent now, but for a moment,
but for a life time.
