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Rated: E · Poetry · Religious · #1485656
Form and Meter . . . . is it a religion? Do we have a rite to use free verse?

I walk outside the flower’s gate,
and ask to know my heaven’s fate.
But now I learn, I’m taciturn
if other plants I will not spurn.

I walked upon the temple steps,
and asked to know the poem’s precepts.
But then I heard, a long absurd,
debate about a lengthy word.

I walk around the statue’s form,
and ask to know why it’s the norm.
But now a storm, the cruciform
we find, in fact, does not conform.

I walked around the hallowed hall,
they asked to know my wherewithal.
But then I found, a battleground,
for I won’t kneel before the crowned.

I walk right up to hear the priest,
and ask to know the aim of the feast,
But doubt is policed, the parley is ceased,
it’s wrong to slur the holy deceased.

I walked within the penal fence.
and asked to know the evidence,
and found the hence—
my consequence—
from credence in "Multivalence.

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