Amen Without Blood

Randhir Thiyam
The New Year reloads—
love is the only update worth installing.
Hate still runs legacy code,
crashing nations on launch.

Faith was meant to be a bridge,
not a border checkpoint.
God never asked for uniforms;

conscience did the talking.
Truth walks barefoot;
sermons arrive armored and loud.

Unity is whispered;
division owns a megaphone.
We chant “amen”
while sharpening knives behind the altar.

Prayer with dirty hands smells like smoke, not incense.
If lies are daily bread, hymns won’t save the soul.
Bullets don’t become holy because scripture is quoted.

We all expire—
immortality is just ego in costume.
So count lives healed, not heads bowed.

Stand together like bones holding one body upright.
Fall apart like echoes arguing with themselves.
Christmas blinks in neon—hope, briefly on sale.

The New Year asks one thing:
live the prayer.
Let us welcome the New Year
wrapped in peace, love, happiness and blessings.