No tortures of aspiration. No modifications of rituals or rules. No playing field, only a dusty, rock filled path leading skyward. What gleams is not absent shadow. What accepts the rich, coal dark not always following perdition. For the light alone knows and judges hearts.

When we first told the truth. It felt sideways in our long drawn beaks. Erasing our alignment with sect and secret society we found ourselves alone often in the hidden burrows of darkness. What came of this cleansing led men to realizations beyond our comfort.

What when the torch was passed? To Moorish maze and gilded hall. What lay in protection or ownership of vast desert? What cold streams lay untended for the misunderstandings of men caught in bias craze? What would children be taught that they would practice in belief?

We esteemed ourselves good enough. What vast separation between the Truth and will of Man? Laying lonely in the residue of life lacking reason. Our boots sodden our minds filled of pyres, fables and aged thinking. We escorted the future to our palaces forgotten planting.

What peace brings the moment of breath and time? What august beginnings and reshaping in the recognized need? What glory found when sought for the lot of God? What preaching shared when first having stomached the horror of our daft beginnings? What now, what then?

We arrived at the prayerful day of our own accounting. Facing the fickle facts of our own rewritten story. This dream would be sown for all to ponder and few to remember otherwise. Our footfalls having been chosen for gold’s chasing and promised fortifications rarely seen.

Our only escape in the memory and recall. Thus the chipping of elderly minds. Failing the retelling we filled our bellies with the aching call of lust, power, greed and legacy. When only in the transformed or awakened thought would we encounter the glory of our creation and the treasure of our destiny in faith.