It might be

They whisper in the dark
as if the shadows they came from
had never been there.
As if the light their eyes are throwing to me
was the pure light of the unconditional love of God,
or the world, or whatever you believe in,
I sincerely think we all should believe in the reality of the doubt,
first of all.
Then you can go and pray to a man in the clouds
or a priest in the crowd,
Can't you hear the voices of the brainless?
They scream with their mouth shut,
they eat with no teeth,
they make love without legs, without air, without heart.
They walk around like the remaining of an ancient art:
the ignorance itself expressed right through the humdrum thoughts
and the light machines sending detrimental waves to the souls of the people
who hasn't been tainted yet.
We feel the wind taking away
what might save us in the near future
and still we think everything will be fixed by itself.
 It might be.