An overbearing weight of books written by gray haired men, Written with disappearing ink, only to maintain ones present in life for the open bar of Christ’s blood. Obsessive Jesus-eaters learned through pressed hands and Amen. I’ll smile once their havens of torture are set ablaze, the divinity of our worth will triumph. Our children will laugh and play, a somber dissonance will warm us when climates are harsh. Alas this dream is hopeful thinking. Burn churches, end church-going.