This is not fit for the son of God….nor Mohammed….or, Vishnu……it is unholy….too much of too much….in the words of Hyman Roth, “smaller piece…”

I bend….I cross myself in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost…..and begin to pray for peace within…peace within…..no more internal struggle… done with the fighting…..the mad yelling….the curses upon enemies…..exes…..pasts….and present troubles…..troubles….troubles……we’ve all been there…..

And cameras are pointed at a golden alter with a crucifix shining…..does pain or suffering shine?….. who knows…again with the selfies….the extended arms to record one whispering, “John John’s mass was celebrated here… So was his mother’s….,” as silent readings on humility….celebration….hurt….and forgiveness are lifted to the heavens…….a prayer for me….a prayer for all….

Across the street Atlas shrugs…..commerce commences…..and trash is rummaged through for a possible meal…..and I pray at St. Pat’s……I pray at St. Pat’s where it is warm inside…..walls are adorned with art…..fortunes are displayed…..

I shall not pray at St. Patrick’s again……