We have slaughtered the sacred,
left the axis mundi bare,
the consecrated ground unmade,
the holy bled to open air.
We have slaughtered the sacred
with second-hand design,
blurred the line
between the coarse and the divine —
traded the sanctum for the screen,
mistook the monument for shrine,
where the threshold once had been
we drew the assembly line.
No hierophany remains
when every threshold feels the same,
when the holy holds no claim
and god goes by a market name.
We have slaughtered the sacred —
not with malice, but with ease,
the way a language is erased
by children who forget to grieve.
And what is the aftermath?
Not wrath — no lord remains to rage —
only the long arithmetic of loss,
the profane inheriting the age.
We have stripped the world of center,
traded rite for hollow routine,
and called the vacuum we have entered
the rational, the clean.
But something stirs beneath the stone
of every city we have razed —
the sacred, patient and alone,
unnamed, unmoved, ablaze.
May 19
May 19, 2026 at 5:02 AM UTC
We have slaughtered the sacred,
left the axis mundi bare,
the consecrated ground unmade,
the holy bled to open air.
We have slaughtered the sacred
with second-hand design,
blurred the line
between the coarse and the divine —
traded the sanctum for the screen,
mistook the monument for shrine,
where the threshold once had been
we drew the assembly line.
No hierophany remains
when every threshold feels the same,
when the holy holds no claim
and god goes by a market name.
We have slaughtered the sacred —
not with malice, but with ease,
the way a language is erased
by children who forget to grieve.
And what is the aftermath?
Not wrath — no lord remains to rage —
only the long arithmetic of loss,
the profane inheriting the age.
We have stripped the world of center,
traded rite for hollow routine,
and called the vacuum we have entered
the rational, the clean.
But something stirs beneath the stone
of every city we have razed —
the sacred, patient and alone,
unnamed, unmoved, ablaze.
Inspired by Mircea Eliade
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