In the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun
you stifle Me
with your words.
your 'Hosannas',
your 'Subanhallahs',
your 'Namo Namahas',
your 'Wahe Gurus'
They all wilt and fall,
decaying at My feet like
rose petals from your ostentatious garland.
Then,
in the night,
when the owls cry and jackals roam
My Poet Priest comes to Me.
He sweeps your soulless words and scentless flowers aside
He sings a song of profanity.
And My lamp is lit in the darkness.
