Nature Is A Friend: Most of the Time

As we feel the heat, we long for relief - a rhyming poem.

That love quite holy -
A dream sublime -
Becomes too lowly;
A shaky crime…
The truth we worship,
A brand new seed;
A heated flip
We do not need…

Now God’s own people
Will feel less stress:
Heaven’s steeple
Shan’t scream duress…
We’ll reunite
And stake new claims -
A fearless flight
With cooler shames.

Now God’s ascent,
The group behaves -
A series bent
On patterned knaves.
Now inexcusably
In denial -
A matter-of-factly
Used up style…