Faith. It's what you believe but what no one lets you see.
Not the ministers, the re-writers, the gardens of Adam or Eve.
This, no, these
are what we come from.
Where our city let our bounty lay;
In hands of orphans.
Orphans given to us from clouds and heavens
where people fell but no one truly lived.
Where a Buddah be cast up to a spirits walk
and roll over in his grave because you call him God.
A righteousness lost.
For, all men seek to have, grab, bury in gold.
But all people see not what they live for.
Holding onto a world that never loved it, because they never loved anything
more than their:
side table, television, green trees made to green wealth;
Green filth.
Take this recognition and make it into not a religion;
a word so filthy it burns the mouths of saints.
Take this vision, and turn it into the wishes,
the ambitions, the soul decision,
to live life, to be right, to let go of all that is vicious.
