A moment in time

A moment in time with face up turned to god,
rough stubble over baby buttered skin,
demons chained, bound to dated mores,
in place of truth sold on blood drenched altars,
paid with poor mans gold, freed to ravenous roar.

Desire, desultory, divine, sealed to the eager eye,
bathing in the dark of the night,
searching for an answer hidden,
where closed doors beckon with gentle guile,
sweet virtue given with a whimpered sigh.

Cry the night, clouded thinking,
pressed by sounds, hard pounding eye,
throbbing to that ancestral tribal drum,
fountain raw in otherworldly sound,
lost into an moments broken silence.

Yes. Witness. A miracle born of sumptous sin,
time worn traditions broken, beaten down,
the highest altars rent with earthly cry, while sin repaired,
in colours stained white by censure, a history well travelled,
the road of broken spirits heavy trod, ignorance upheld.