I hear them again!
The periodic defense warnings
which so regularly
on the first day of each week,
signal those persons
who have received the proper
Pavlovic training,
To retreat to their respective
stained-glass bombshelters.

The exodus begins! Like neurotic ants they are running To the specified mound, which childhood training has made almost instinctual, to receive the particular brand of theological anesthesia there administered.

Within the sacred walls,
Huddled together
in a dark and musty corner,
they review the "current events"
of the world
and reiterate the recent propaganda
of the "enemy"
so as to plot
further withdrawal tactics.

 

Counter-tactics!
In hushed voices
they reaffirm the verity of their stand,
taking care to cloak such affirmations
in garbled semantics
so as not to cause offense
to those persons
Who are not members
of the "Party."

The scare is over! They exit once again into the harsh realities of the world, covering their eyes and repeating with renewed optimism, "This world is not my home; I'm just a passing through, My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue."