A boy kneels in front of an empty church
HIs eyes are closed, hands clasped,
And his lips mouth, innate testaments.
Before him a cross,
protecting him, guiding him.
It preaches of competition and love
of peace and forgiveness,
of patience and hope.
It promises the boy all of these virtues
but only in the wake of war.
A juxtaposition of time,
religion teaches morals of devotion,
but like the breeze
religion fans the flames of war.
And the boy, as he sits
He listens with question
all protected by the cross,
lead by the four horsemen.