Atheist

An Atheist walks with vision pared,
Upon a lonely plane,
His joy is gathered by the hair,
By edmicated repair.

So long fair judgement blow away,
On wild idolatrous breeze,
The gasping truth, no breath to find,
Withered in despair.

Then, when sweet logic,
Broken be, along with burning book,
Crippled man, so swiftly run,
To scythe a spilling flood.

Let god be kinder to the truth,
when soldiers born of cross,
do march the road to satan's drum,
With anger in their heart.

Sweet dying breath, deep crimson flow,
Cold logic builds a hall,
And seeds hot passions mid the chill,
Where life will surely grow.

So generations yet unlit,
Shall see the hidden snare,
And find the answers to their search,
Mid truth that they find there.