Quite the start to the weekend
There it goes, watch it ends
These pages are made of dust
What is half read is still unread
Tree of paper leaving glue trail
In search of the perfect bookmark
I found a place for receipts to recuperate

I locked eyes with Jupiter
On a wooden coffee table
The great counterclockwise storm
Ticking away with each drop
Disaster, sky without a star

Heaven receives blessings,
On slow workdays
When martyrs are lucky enough to live
We swore by that which divides day and night,
and fails to conquer either
That Faith must not pass the gate
Until they call for prayer
Until the square of crossroads is clear
Sometimes I feel like a disbeliever in Jerusalem

Prayers manifest duality as one
So shoulders can shrug in unison
Banal attempts to restore faith
Outrage is out of reach
The mind sets red-tape traps,
We call that mindless assertions
In the climate of trumpets and megaphones
Nothing escapes poltics
Vicious cyclones of “Breaking News" cycles
"I see pictures of children in faraway places that wreck me for a day"