A Believer’s Prayer

 

It is Predatory Capitalism; the economic muscles of economic hit men to subvert the earth of its wealth, for the welfare, for the value holdings of just of the few. It begs the question in these times of the 21st Century, what happens then to the rest of the billions more people who may be excluded from the secretive dogma of the very rich and the powerful? All the few filthy rich whose numbers shrinks by as fewer each passing day and the population exploding in a way to suggest of an apocalyptic end, may be akin to an exploding nuclear bomb to deface earth of life and people, where dwelt zombies, goblins and demons, only them will preserve.

By as many times, I am perennially tempted asking of these what antidote there is that we can ask of God that people of your like and mine may be saved, but from what infractions and from where?

Warmongers, they petrify the acumen of a wily swindler, deceitful, arrogance bemoaning of fiery tongues, insists war is as good as the war that from which should end all wars, and who would have the power to restrain if there may be no more ears to listen but them and only unto them, the powerful and the wealthy; who can be anywhere anyplace safe, of wealth afford them flight hence be saved, them the war profiteers. But how will you and I shall fare, we the poor?

I am poor and a Muslim because my land, land grimaced of greed, is not hearing of peace such that made mine so desolate, so impoverished. I am both of the learning and one from amongst of the learned; learning because of ways outside of my faith that trifles, the frippery part of the few where I belong, not of the majority therefore my rights are a debacle, as meaningless.

Learned because I am descended of the book and from blood untainted from martyrs’ of puritan will; rulers of my land once upon a time. I am learned because of their wisdom and virtue, clothed me armor of puritan gold headstrong because of my faith they preserved me with, and I willed to treasure as I breathe some more from their sweat and blood, the magic of self-preservation.

I am lucky, unwavering man of faith, a knowing believer. But what of war as demons of my land mimic the darker side, of their plunder so unspeakable. What now then should swordsmen reign?

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