The bad religion dealers
are gathering their stock,
investing in security
and trusting key and lock.
The bad religion traders
conspire in desperation
they’re making plans to overcome,
correct the situation.
They know the Teacher’s coming
they’ve felt the voice and whip.
Their pleasant life is overturned;
he’s shooting from the hip.
The scattered coins lie gleaming
strewn rudely on the floor;
while safe assumption’s ripped away,
sweet comfort’s out the door.
Table legs point to the sky
the sheep, they are departing;
ignoring indignation’s cries,
the Teacher is just starting.
The bad religion brokers
are exiting the temple;
they’ve seen the walls, the fractured stones,
they disregard the people.
The Teacher sees the kingdom,
there’s love behind his rage;
he shouts life’s possibilities;
the dove has left its cage.
The bad religion vendors
dealing life diminished,
sad and anxious, cheerless, mean; their
fearful trade is finished
The walnut, it is cracked now,
the old religion’s broken;
barriers are thrown aside, the
roads to life are open.
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