Dreamers, enticed to turn away
Kneeling, to gods born from clay
Praying, to images carved to stone
Bowing, though sins are not atoned
Hearing, only silence through your cries
Seeing, nothing with lifeless eyes
Worthless, are the objects they idolise
Blinded, men fall to their demise
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 