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The Jerusalem of Our Earthly Souls

Confluence it seems to be:
this vortex city of yearning 
to speak to gods . . .

temples and mosques are raised,
stalagmites of our hopes,
shooting upwards, aspiring,

as though we could shoot
our prayers into the heavens;
we make ourselves believe

these churches came from celestial
drips of mineral blessings, solid
thoughts bestowed from above . . .

yet, why do we all hate each other
in this city, why must we assassinate
our peacemakers?  And this is not

a newly discovered vice; at times 
I fear we yearn to speak to infinity
so much that we can't stand

the sight of others yearning,
yearning.

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