So many Holy Places, so much white stone
Crescents, Crosses, Six-Pointed Stars
Layers on Layers,
Mosques on Synagogues on Cathedrals
White stone breathes traditions
Bleeds conflict,shimmers purity
Hellishly hot
With labyrinths and vistas
The weight of the heavens unbearable
Angels stand on my head
Crusaders, Ottomans, IDF Soldiers
Hold me down
But I feel ethereal
That sound in the sky...
Angels? Missiles?
Or just a Boeing?
-CAM
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