Today's writ has no etiquette or even predicate.

Logic is often irresolvable on its own table.

Each religion has its own purification rites and wrongs.

For a writer each achievement leads to a galley proof of bereavement.

Some are emergent in water, others lie in the mud.

No one is successful in religion, always striving from failure from someone of a higher power.

Today predestination is electable.

Our minimalists are minor prophets with their own liturgy and clergy.

Old information is expected news.

In the dissonance of long suffering is our only chance at discovering. 

The quickly edited are soon discredited.

Silence conquers all.