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The Mission
| Open Poetry #1 |
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The Mission |
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The Mad Monk New Member
since 1999-07-01
Posts 7 |
The Mission Can the mission be spared while the foulest demons From the shadows snarl and growl? There is no morning coming. No sun to force the evil back Into the dark recesses… The missionary shivers and prays As spit flies from his lips… God is but a cruel joke now. His mind was frozen in foolish youth, And he, the child who seeks protection, Wields his sacred crucifix Like a lowly pagan dagger And sees the demons move into The ever-shrinking ritual pattern. ------------------ The Mad Monk |
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