Religion

This is a poem that speaks of my personal expeiance with orthiadox religion

RELIGION
Ancient dogma, relics,
Broken glass of the Rose Window,
The ever crumbling statueary
Sitting in silence
As the sweet purfumes of incense
Drift across marble
And alabaster stone.
Tyranical history and
Bloodstained pages of time;
Crusading swords which
Drip rubies from
The innocent necks
Of free thinkers;
The dying down of
That long forgotten teaching;
Awaken anew in
The Old Gods and
Let the pure knowledge
Of the mystics glow like
A light within you.
Drawings of circles
In chalk dust,
Cerimonies of old
Held before Divinety as
Robed figures of fair face and
Pure spirit chant with
Bell, Book, and Candle;
Celibrating the Sun and Moon
As Father and Mother;
From time to time returning
to the hollowed
Out shell of papal teachings
To remember what I
Left behind