Deliberations for your Salvation

A dark mesh of preaching descends
On the vacant spectators as
Waves of empty reverence direct
Infectious guilt; ready for the pass
Of the routine bowl where sins
Are exchanged feverishly for tainted cash.

Gold encrusted and Latin embossed,
The Holiness delivers aged speeches,
Acting well or true believing. Not
That it matters, his distanced reaches
Are far from cares of the scruffy crowd,
Dog-eared together, bent with glazed features.

Occasionally a mistuned squawk ruptures
Carefully constructed piety masques
As the modern century seeps into the
Senseless repetition of a self-forced task.
Depleted the herd, yes (yet more of a flock)
So why continue, bad morning telly perhaps

Or habit so old it defies logic…

Can troublesome souls lead so many
(who are so different) to creep the same path?
Obvious gibberish mutates in their desperate
Eyes, offering solace and hope in the hideous aftermath
Of humanity strikes. Wishing to be one is unthinkable
When clarity knocks, but perhaps, sometimes,
Self-imposed insanity allows them to laugh.