The traditionalists are in chaos, their relevance
is like a late evening shadow skirting from rooftop
to alley wanting to be tangible, but fading
Now, the priests are paupers standing like
tombstones at the grave sites of their pedagogical
disasters – speechless.
Who will be the next person to wake, turning
from their paradigm interpretations too many
years later, famished for attention, and wonder –
what love is?