companions

Along with the troubled waters,

Of the Ganges, which once clear,

Was the beholder of many lives,

That which you have troubled with bullshit,

So that you could fish the dying.

Along with the fire that which,

You have ignited in the stomachs,

Of your believers and the wretched,

Which offer you light and them illusions.

Along with the smoky air,

Fighting which, with much effort,

Sight has to penetrate.

Along with the dead bodies,

Of hopes- of the living and the dead,

Those that offer you sacrifice.

Along with the excreta,

Of once living, humble,

Sober animals, truthful to their natures.

Along with the music that,

Arises out of, but engrosses greater,

Rebellious vigours.

Along with the debts,

Of tranquility of the several dissatisfied spirits,

Of spiritless conditions.

I am a part of it, but I know,

This is not some dwelling place,

Which claims to be my temple.