Hope

An image of God arises from ashes,

To a welcoming of muted men.

Pursuing, he finds souls who grant his holiness,

A night in their barren den.

Forsaken by power they accept his wishes,

While they doze in a ruthful pen.
 

Voyaged afar the maker reaches,

A land of a wealthy ten.

Reaching them through promises,

He then sleeps in the homes of gentlemen.

Accepting his treaty of absurdities,

They sign over their souls to be taken.
 

Last of all the idol chases those menaces,

Those that leave him forgotten.

Who abhor to the deliverance of his pitches,

And more so his partition to leave their life's outbidden.

They see the disguise of false hopes,

For expectation lays in freedmen.