The Catch

 

I stood at the doorway,

Amidst the assembled devotees

Crowding the temple,

Their constant murmur filled the air;

Each had a chosen desire

Safe in their heart,

And a prayer on their lips

They had immense faith in their belief.

But,

There was no prayer on my lips,

Only a small desire scraping my heart;

I stood there

And quietly watched the light play,

Gently upon the deity’s serene face,

That very face I wanted to be mine.

Such is the strange thoughts,

That bothers me.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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