As days went by,
theists became intolerant,
dangerous; they were bought into
stories that distracted them from
the track - that of peaceful prayer.
Atheists, agnostics proved to
be more peaceful and in that,
followed a sort of unwritten
religion more than the practitioners;
the followers were infected with
the contagious amnesia, they
forgot who they were.
Divinity disappeared in the
overpowering mechanical illumination,
religions were stabbing religions,
the light within us was in the dark;
dismissed, yet it relentlessly worked,
like Sisyphus, carried the rock
on the shoulder, day and night without
the slightest sight of hope, from anywhere.
When the prophets were writing
those pages, what were they thinking
one wonders... were they filling
the leaves by cutting them from
their branches of the sole tree...
were they, each of them, wording
a tragedy of scriptures?
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