A pillared salt of sinners
dissolving in the rain
The wear of time it suffers
but we are not to blame.
A fragile dream is scripture
A Prophet's passion bled
The humor of perception
infests the books we're fed.
It's madness to interpret
Translation breeds belief
The truth is as an enigma
and life is cruelly brief.
Perhaps our love continues
Perhaps our fears are just
Perhaps we'll all be mended
when our bones reduce to dust.
But torture won't transport us
beyond those pearly gates
For sure as God is waiting
surely nothing does await.
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