Our passions play to tribal idols,
Like proud love of nation, creed or class.
We prefer to dwell amongst shadows,
And confirm each other’s prejudice.
We are soothed by the sweetened music
Of dream operators & and their ilk.
Their madness is reflected in
The dark mirror of distortion.
No one will consecrate the wine & bread
And share it with the ragged stranger.
In the East & the West the stars are dead.
The world plummets deeper into danger.
We’re chained to our fears at night,
Anything to avoid the Platonic Light.
Tired Of Tribal Allegiances
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