Quiet and unmoving figure in shadowy sanctuary

Heavy in cement, garish colours and mass produced worship

Your arms wide, open and embracing the slums and towers

The misery, noisy and desperate incantations- calculus for virtue

Hungry in extravagant prayer, furious in all encompassing faith

Harder and colder in steely indifference, gold hearted over empty stomachs

Adorned, lavished, ancient and praised amongst aching limbs and inner torment

Before you we fearfully fold in submission, for you may be muted,

But the devil’s voice is always echoed, among spectral nations and monstrous profit

Blood drinking machines and ciphers in our souls