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Months of Sundays bleed into each other,
instead of facing the world we run for cover.
Moving on but something's missing.
What you thought was the mainstream
is just another rut:
another pentecostal, charismatic,
speaking in tongues, raising your hands,
full gospel businessmen's,
women's aglow, praise the lord,
songs of the kingdom, street witnessing
church hopping, Toronto-pepsicola
view of religion that gave away grace in favour of law
until another congregation spilt and walked out the door.
Head full of yesterday's miracles
and urban legends of angels on assignment,
time-warp preachers in two places at once
and missionary tales in far off colourful lands
where thousands are healed at the touch of a hand. >>