A firmament rises against the dark night,

Spiraling into a glow of green,

Arms of a dome bound in seasons,

Meshes of bamboo, webs so mean

Faith robbers in turbans and cloaks,

Hustle in huddle to the faith altars

A theater forced on prayer rows,

Faith sellers adulate the faithless Tsars

Behind barricades of denial and mute,

Prayer rugs run over by marches and boots


In endless sobs of our supplications,

The barricaded dome drips, resonates mutely.