Dangerous Mythology

A pale taste,

the sharp burn of empty

bowing at the worship steps

descended by a goddess

wrapped in a gown of uranium

The weak are broken

melted by a scoundrel sun

the warriors of rulers

unite in tandem

They demand

the pendulum swing

back to order

Somewhere, a gavel falls

on laws that wreck and divide

the masses hope the goddess

borrows from her softer side

and that she masters quickly

that capricious ear

least they might leave this world


Until then,

there is isolation

without comfort

and silence

to lull the terror

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