Affidavits of Mystery

The temple bells are ringing slow,
In the precincts of this monolithic edifice,
Candescent flames of hope burning low,
A silent prayer for deliverance of laboratory mice

My father nudged on the arm of another person,
And asked him about my destiny’s decree,
He replied, if the conditions don’t worsen,
I shall be the ambassador of all who’re free

But as I walk across these corridors of pain,
I smell naphthalene balls and tinctures of iodine,
The battles fought by disinfectants in vain,
These germs have witnessed more than I’ve seen

And I feel as if the best days of my life,
Are now available on DVDs in stores,
Too many possibilities of perpetuation in strife,
Too many nights spent with temporary whores

What’s the lesson then, that’s not been learnt?
What explains these lingering notions odd?
The affidavits of this mystery have all been burnt,
And faithful hypocrites now believe in god.



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