The Temple Dreamed

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The Temple of the Future stands
Beneath a sky of leaden gray,
Its walls awash with blood and sand,
Its spires like fingers clawing day.


Within, the faithful kneel and pray
To pale blue idols, cold and blind,
Whose eyes stare down with empty gaze
On those who offer up their kind.


The priests, in robes of crimson red,
Incite the mob to cries of hate,
And from the altar, blood is shed
To feed the god of greed and fate.