Gospel

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  We are the children of light,
  Wise, not companioned
  By goats
  In a condemned graveyard.

  Backward blowing
  Blizzards of memory
  Flatten out
  The genealogies.

  But here a point,
  The objective essence
  We work in.
  We shall not drink from the stink-pots.

  Propaganda,
  Gospel spread
  With tin shovels,
  We are this generation.

© Patrick Kavanagh