Sedated Sleep

An aged oak stretches its fingers

Through purple skies.

Under its branches owls convene

And ravens spy.

Man justifies walking-by,

Sowing white lies

And Christ is no longer found

On solid ground.

Postmodernism’s axe swings low

Striking at reason’s roots.

Now, owls shiver, wisdom withers,

Spoiling virtuous fruits.

Objective morality feeds less and less

And faith becomes obsolete.

Humanism we adore

And naturalism soars.

New “truths” keep the ole discreet.

Relativism takes the plow

To mix right-n-wrong into one sedated sleep.


Chester Delagneau

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