The island of monks sits hidden in the Aegean sea,
Wizened Monks in immaculate robes chant prayers,
Churches and Monasteries as old as the millennium,
Stand tall and grand, masterpieces of art and poetry!
The air of spirituality surrounds and protects it from
Prying eyes, lest the unclean defile it with lusting eyes,
For, none of bad spirit might step foot on this island,
Lest he might be thrown to the swine and lose sanity!
The chant of liturgies and mumbled prayers wafts
Through the air, while Saints look down from the
Walls of the Chapels and Monasteries, both kind “n”
Strict, a life of hardship and suffering made them so!
The air around the island thrums with a strong force.
The asceticism and devotion, repentance and faith,
Create a force field to cure, the sick and help the fallen.
A soothing balm to tortured souls and frayed conscience!
The wizened faces of the Monks tell a story of wisdom
For those who care to hear! But be warned that of those
Who go to the island, few come back, for to be a Monk,
And live a life of renunciation might bring forgiveness!
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