Throngs of worshippers surge through the doors,
Their steps silently ringing on padded floors –
Priests and high priests of Mammon
And all their train of deacons,
Performing their dark rites –
Hands shaking hands, hands greedy for money, for power,
While acolytes ply their instruments,
Chattering on cellphones and flashing eager smiles.
What profit to gain the whole world?
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