Beacons shine and sirens call
From Polished Minarets in muted off white hues
People shaped lies with children within
We congregate at the devotional call
Facing the universe with calmed smiles, damp hands
Shielding dagger rocks from approaching students
Dirty surf wets our ankles, feet flat on damp carpet
In a room with the door wide open
self-serving minutes in the name of higher learning
Dervish turning through the smallest hours
Touched by something truly divine
Head heavy clawing through fog
To martyr self on those daggers
Providing safe passage for unassuming prophets
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