That there's no grand plan
No pie in the sky by and by
This book,
a tiny ceramic village
Decorated impeccably
For a hollow day
Just a display
In the beginning
A metaphor for Om
Belief in a name sound
A paradise awaits
Repentant murderers
Zealot martyrs
Flames for unblessed victims
Self-fulfilling prophesy
And false dichotomy
Shape shifting
Into every belief system
And none
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