I used to love the old tales The reenactments of old men Sitting on benches telling The horrors of war It would carry me away Into their world upon a date A place so vivid upon the minds That i saw through their thoughts. Little glimmers of cycles That filled my life upon their momentum. Built my boundaries around them Listening to old dog heros collide Upon times emotional tide.
@writersnetwork this poem is more about the generally assumed exclusiveness of any given religion. Statements that say that a religion is the truest, and that any other is a lie is just a very intolerant attitude to take. All forms of worship to a good and greater power are valid.