The eleventh hour

Grooving and searching,
The gold of their life,
Shoving and pushing,
To the rescue of their life.

A bee-hive of activity,
In the last minute of the activity,
Choosing and discarding,
In a mist of indecision.

A mushrooming of churches,
A welter of confusion,
Baring many potentials,
To the well of salvation.

One criticising the other,
The other,
A wolf in a sheep’s clothes,
Or is it the former in a sheep’s clothes?

Many still remain undecided,
And yet the time that remains:
A time bomb in a world petrol!
-Pending explosion at the eleventh hour.

Better be found in a net,
Whose fisherman may spare a crab,
Than being seen in a web,
Whose spider will devour to a stub.