Assembly Line Faith

You hear that click 
and you know 
that is it. 

It is 
that click, 
you hear, 
you see, 
dilate, 
pupil, 
to the light, 
you hear, when 
it goes out, the lesson, 
and the guru, 
what remains? 

Ashes, urns, 
or conjugal burns? 

Where do Catholic priests 
please themselves 
at night? 

Pray, tell me, 
where do our men run to 
when their women point 
a wedded finger 
back at them? 

Oh, jamaat

Faithful mediator 
for those who 
cannot see right 
and wrong from 
blinding light. 

Find solace 
instead 
in the silent 
mosque 
of mind. 

You won’t 
find me, 
I, illusory. 

You will cease 
to see me, 
I will cease 
to be. 

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