Kestrel drifts in breezy sky.
It's busy, cannot recognise me as drive by.
The menu below has yet to be caught.
Off to shops get my own meals to prepare.
Old folk grumbled, cuppas been served.
Who gets to heaven, Bad theology again,
In the same old place Faith massages a fools Ego.
I observe with clear eyes, it's action witnessed before. Creates further discord.
Not a riddle, plain to see, empowerment not practised by man whose Faith.
About only what HE should be.
Faith can be good for even a fool's Ego.
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