As I
glance in their direction…
I see
motions and action…
I sense
emotion and reflection…
The oaken
glow of the polished pews is a distraction…
The
murmurs I hear sound like a plea or petition...
And then
the invocation...
A sombre
transformation...
A sooth
saying revelation...
The
sounds around me evaporate like a chemical distillation...
I can
only read the lips of my voyeuristic victims...
I can see
their lips tremble with trepidation...
Then the
moment of revelation...
He mouths
the reason…For his mental bifurcation…
“The
only thing you're doing wrong…is that you're doing everything right”
Silence...as
if the instantaneous materialization of a vacuum...
I feel
the tension…The fight or flight inclination…
It
harkens back to a personal recollection…
Of loss, betrayal
and exasperation…
The priests
procession breaks my mesmerization…
I turn my
gaze to the open book and focus on my redemption…
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