Fading Stars

The spirit hasn't moved us
Despite we believe,
No one seems to witness
The senseless tongues of fire,
The holy rollers aren't in the churches,
The hari krishna are dancing
Beneath their gabardine.
There's fewer snakes to handle,
No laying on one's hands,
No one's speaking plainly,
Wisdom's on the run.
The golden bitcoin wants a sacrifice
Brought to the mountain top.
It's unholy ground.
The spirit can't be found.
Believe is shouted from the spires,
Towering over dying fires
With sparks rising like fading stars.
I'm looking for an excuse,
To lay the blame at someone's feet.
I don't care to be discreet,
I want answers. I'll point and shout.
The time is ripe to single out.

by Francie Lynch

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