The idolatry of Mammon, ceaseless.

Upon the poorest lands the tallest spires grow. Gleaming domes insulating against modernity. Proclaiming the limits of civilisation, of progress. Portals to regression.

The poorest communities indebted and put to labour, any chance for prosperity sold for a glut of false hopes. Religious tithes extracting from those that can least afford its mock panacea. The existence of the soul is first invented, then before long voraciously taxed.

Pay the church or be damned.

The blood and sweat of man is leached away to the holy lands, providing nourishment for the sanctified.

Under the auspices of wealth, indulgences are acquired. Sin with impunity. For the right price, all transgressions are absolved and rewarded with benefice.

The pious worship at an altar of gold and renounce their sacred relics, apathetic to their simony. The profits used in turn to build ever higher fences.

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