When first beheld, the wooded trails and pond
appear to glow with lights of welcome, love
and peace and make a place where gods respond
with solace, strength and insight from above.

But once inside, behind the blinding gleam,
the image falls and breaks, the idol’s feet
of clay are found, we’re shaken from our dream:
This heap of fetid chaff can yield no wheat.

The stench of rotting past is made more foul
by hiding in the fragrant scent of faith.
The venom seeps from vipers on the prowl,
and leaves the dream a shriveled tattered wraith.

Beware, you gentle souls and seeking hearts,
and shield those holy fruits you hold so dear!
The myth of Heaven on Earth is torn apart:
Now Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.