The stench of two thousand confessions told,
the musky air of reverence and faith,
everything in the vicinity is old
but my sins follow me in like a wraith.
I have an undying impurity
as I pass through the arch without belief,
is my skepticism insecurity?
Just to know either way would bring relief.
If so gracious a God why need we pray?
Does a father make his child get on their knees?
He would want us to live the lives he gave,
to spend our time on his earth as we please.
I trust in God, but question his worship,
to have our faith, God should make life worth it.
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