Food is ready Scratch that, the table is set Come one, come all Come cross the river Skate the mountains and traverse the rainforest For long before now Thy adherents have had their fill And filled the church pews with belly filled Now is the time ripe for the clergy The state pottage to taste After all everyone is a joint heir To the state till and resources Let the gods bless the elite and the connected With appointments useful or useless The multitude can afford to beg Now all get served from the same till For when it comes to public till There is neither clergy nor laity After all they all buy from the same market If the state perishes, it perishes. *Thoughts from an imaginary citizen of an imaginary state in an imaginary world. Any semblance to any event past, present or future is coincidental. (September, 2020).
Cross the River to Cross River
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