For my place of worship
Is broken down
For my fire is
Quenched
For wherever I go
I build an altar
But I no longer find
Interest in creating my own
Altar
For my spirit and my flesh
Is weak
And my lips are not
Filled with the scriptures
For my generation lies in my altar
For me to be praised
I go on bended kneels every nights
Mending and bending irons with words
From my mouth to make my
Altar burn daily.
Altars
Theophilus Katon Chidonku
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 12/23/2020
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Poem topics: fire, generation, weak, place, mouth, spirit, broken, daily, worship, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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