Temple of money

I hid apprehension in my heart. And walked into a temple robed in saffron and dust. The place that was most sacred. Where they would come to give gratitude, take blessings, rid their fear. Where they saw and knew Him. And now, it lay. Former grandeur fallen to ignorance and disregard. Not a shadow of the ancient glory and reverence fell over it. The splendor of an era, enshrouded in the stillness of death. I walked on, embraced in to the house of the Lord.

The priest professed holy religion. He spoke in half tongues. He knew not the truth of that he spoke. He knew not that we listened, he cared not that they, of the frightened, followed. He promised blessings of the mother. The ancient keepers of knowledge, the pure and virgin of spirit and flesh. The cunning perpetrators of the vile trades that he, and his brothers everywhere, practiced. He stayed, and spun money. Gold and coins were his jewels, he was paid not in words. I walked out, rudely sent away.

The foul scatter their filth for the innocent, always.