In the drifting path of revelers
Shifting as landscapes of the dunes;
Wind-blown, they come and go
Their feet not tarrying; never marooned.
Haunted castles of resounding mirth
Imperious, alluring and full of intrigue;
Their hearts afire and passions astir
Playhouses, of neither fear nor fatigue.
No signpost need lead one to them
For they stand towering over all –
At every street, bend and corner
Smoking chimneys spewing bitterest gall.
Their hallways serenade to distant moors
Through foyers of glitter and grandeur,
As windows drum laughter and blues
With sunny benevolence on the merry-maker.
Shrubs of festooned thorns and briers
 Lit to lead down their garden paths;
When come alive sleeping giants
With the glitzy lights of nightly hearths.
Not the enduring blooms of the myrtle
Or the majestic heights of the pine,
Nor restful shade of righteous oaks;
Nor fruits of olives, figs or the true vine.
But the masquerade of ravenous beasts,
Wallowing sows and poisonous vipers;
A pageantry of lions, wolves,
Bulls, dogs and deafened adders!
Defenseless, their shoots take root
As sheep raised for slaughter;
Tho’ with flutes and dirges bid,
They leave behind an empty quiver.
These impostors of barren land –
Unyielding on pillars of abysmal,
Ensnare to bogs of self-indulgence
With wanton stares and honeyed vocal.
They are the Balaams, the Jezebels
The God-forsaken city of the Babylonians,
The withering oaks and arid gardens;
Impervious! Doomed houses of the demons.