With the glut of prayers,
Temples are crowded.
The walls of the
Sanctum are tired.
The bells having worked,
Without respite, want to
Shed their weight,
On someone's shoulder.
But atheists are not
Allowed to be involved.
So every time, someone
Rings the bells to offer
Prayers to the lord-
Before they reach him,
They're being absorbed
By the walls.
Nauseated by the soot
Of the oil lamps,
The Lord hides in the dark,
Like a deaf commander-
In seek of rest from his
Seekers' relentless asks.