TEMPLE OF HEALING
We wander through hot desserts of sands gold,
No one dares turn dust into loaves of bread,
Picking up instead nuggets of goods sold;
Pfizer, Sinopharm, such stones that are read,
In wastelands seen of dread dungeons dark.
Repeat and be saved; the shamans heads shake,
For light overhead, awaits, broken spark.
Lips quiver in wisdom, walls roll and quake.
Oracle has spoken for our sake.
TEMPLE OF HEALING © gillena cox 2021
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