The Grammar Of Terror

In the crevices
of an unknown skull
lie veins
that carry blood
that speaks
of books revealed
and ideas reviled.

Ancient notions
Undecipherable emotions
Piled on promises
Of a heaven unseen
that shape hell on earth.

Is it the searing heat?
or the smell of camel meat?
An awe gone wrong
Or a code that outlived its time?

To kill and to die
In the name of revelations
Perched on wafer-thin assurances
Fortified by habits
Nurtured by kin
On wavy feelings of virtue and sin.
This. This. This.
What blood in the cranium affirms that This?
--N. Madhavan, 2014