Priests of Gods

If they could rise from dusty graves
interned by hands in the years of old
would they know the way we praise
in the way of gods they knew?
the priests are young upon this earth
the acolytes are breaths of wind
the gods look down to shake their heads
wondering at the whims of man

this generation holds a line
hallowed idols are their guide
ego mixed with fear's prodding
that all that matters is the gain
principalities of the earth
ruling over the unwashed ones
appeasing rabble now unleashed
while building their power base

the good and evil mix as one
common goals spoil hallowed grounds
taint of demon would be less foul
than compromise for power's guile
whispering that means are blessed
no matter who or what is grasped
when all that matters falls in place
the end a curse, perdition found

appropriation becomes the norm
the highest goals brought so low
by usurpers crowing good
when in their hearts they pollute
the principles of ancestors
who may have had the same clay feet
yet who are we to hold up high
examples of the priests of gods?

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170222.

Thoughts about appropriation connected with articles about the political compromises of the religious groups.  Good motivations are turned foul as the steering is taken over by those worship power as their true divinity.  The outcome of these ponderings is the poem "Priests of Gods".