THE SHRINE, by Wade German

The elders of our clan believe the shrine

Has stood here since before the dawn of man;

It broods there blackly, palpably malign—

A place forbidden by a tribal ban.

To whom the shrine was raised remains unknown—

To god or demon, or some nameless saint;

An aura of the darkly sacrosanct

Ensures the eerie shrine is left alone.

In darker ages, there were chosen few

Who therein sought the mystery enshrined;

But only one of them to us returned,

To preach a gospel alien and new…

And he and all his acolytes were burned

For knowing things not meant for human minds.