yearn and plead again for yet another faith. Never

                satisfied by greed, we defile ourselves in ways

                equal to those we push outside the gate – hammering out our own

                lusts. Fashioned by walls, streets,

                leveraged well into night, church, temple or mosque.

                Justified, we tarry about, step over sloven drunks

                eviscerated in ways only aged spirits can

                sanctify. Finding ourselves lured into submission,

                useless, as even the unborn become numbers grabbed from God – 
                sustained by charts, graphs and now, avarice.