The Faulty GPS

Led by a Faulty GPS of false god, prophet and scripture

My Brothers circle a pile of rocks in pagan desert tradition

Once occupied by 360 Figures, now only the Kissed Blackstone

Counter-wise my Brothers in serious piety shuffle un-atoned

An icon of a dove was the first one to be shattered

Like a political campaign the field narrowed, last standing only mattered

In fervent chants to who was greatest, the Blackstone had been voted

Errors of the GPS had then been completely uploaded

There was no question the Fathers imagined the nature of the stone

Still the directions from the Faulty GPS led all my Brothers to the Wrong

Instructions in the final upload of this Defective GPS

Gave it the ability to replicate, perpetuating our present distress

Most other Positioning Systems were to be reprogrammed or immediately nixed

Some authentic originals could be used but when broken never fixed

Somehow, somewhere, someone hoped the world would have only one GPS

And that all would spin with my Brothers one day in an Universal Meccan-fest

I plead with and mock my Brothers who bend daily to the mob of rocks

Who follow directions to nowhere and encircle cobbled outcrops

Who are too busy washing or calculating with the Device

Who ignore this irrational disorder that hobbles their inner life

Unknown to my Brothers, imbedded in the networked device

Is a vicious default setting whose code triggers the unit's Demise

In a time and sequence encapsulated by the one known as True

Obliteration of the GPS and it's users will come due

The boulders will be scattered

The memory of the brothers will forever be lost

It will never enter the realm of minds

That people once circled this heap of rocks