Often it was their happy piety
sometimes their excessive caution
or the cheeky look in their eyes
I knew where to find them

as if I could smell them
the confessers, simmering
at the cauldron in their small homes
I filled the dungeons with them

They don't want to accept the facts
and prefer to fantasize
about a divine intervention
They are superstitious and rebellious

I know the laws better than they do
and I acted as a free man
without burden or consultation
With warrants and soldiers

Until I heard clearly: Stop.
It's me. Don't go any further.
Listen. And do as I say.
Please send someone else

I replied
I couldn't see anymore
what I should, what should I
do, in God's name?