My Sunday morning thoughts...

 “Sanctuaries”

They riselike fortresses of fortune,etched against the skyline—stone, steel, glassstacked in shimmering layers,palaces built to outlast time itself.

Their gates never creak.They glide openonly for those whose namescarry weightlike currency.

Inside,the air hums low with comfort—climate tuned precisely,floors that shine like mirrors,chandeliers spun from light itself,hallways vast as canyonslined with gold-leafed wordsabout generosity.

They dine on imported delicacies,aged wines,discussing strategies for change,how best to guidethe unruly world beyond their walls.

Through rose-colored windowsthey gaze out,seeing onlywhat flatters them back—poverty as a puzzleto be solvedfrom afar,desperation as distant noise,a problem of policy,never proximity.

They craft rulesfor those outside—codes, decrees, restrictions—shaping streetsthey’ve never walked,drafting lawswith hands that have never toucheda callus or cold door handle.

And all the while,these vast halls sit hollowfor days,sometimes weeks—silent but spotless,waiting for the next grand gatheringwhile their keepers sleepunder other roofs,far from here.

Meanwhile,beneath their shadowed hedgerowsand beside their gilded bins,others seek refuge—pressed against cold stone walls,curled on concrete walksstill warm from the day’s sunor slick with freezing rain.

They nest in cornerswhere the wind cuts less sharply,praying for shelterfrom the burn of July,the bite of January,while above themempty towers of lightstand guardover nothing but themselves.

And when whispers arise,they saythey give so much already.They pledge fortunes—but only to causesthat circle backto them.

They’ve masteredthe old art of protection:loopholed and exempt,they owe nothingto the common cause,for all their wealth,they say,is already spoken for—claimed by their missionto servethe “greater good.”

And it isn’t until you noticethe spires—the subtle curve of arches,the cross-like shapeswoven in the iron gates—that you realize:

You weren’t lookingat the homes of billionaires.These are the sanctuarieswhere the poor are taughtto bowbefore opulenceand call itsalvation.

Afterword

This poem was sparked by a post I saw on Threads by @muhoro_wa_mwenja, showing the image of an extravagant church towering over a crumbling neighborhood. The words that accompanied it struck like a bell:

"People have been brainwashed to worship while they starve. To tithe while children suffer. To build altars while classrooms rot."

That sentiment echoed something I’ve seen unfold again and again, in places like the U.S. and Canada, and around the world, where churches gleam like palaces in neighborhoods where poverty clings to every doorstep.

I wanted this poem to blur the lines at first—to make readers think we were looking at mansions or corporate towers, the usual emblems of unchecked wealth. But the twist is that this isn't about CEOs or tech billionaires. It's about those who preach charity while amassing fortunes, whose sanctuaries stand empty while the streets outside overflow with need.

This isn’t a condemnation of faith itself. It’s a confrontation with the ways power can hide behind piety—how easily we can be led to worship wealth disguised as virtue.

Sometimes, it isn’t the devil who wears the finest robes.

Support Independent Content Creation

I know, I know, I know...

These donation messages can be intrusive. I understand that. (Trust me, I feel awkward writing them too!)

But reaching out like this is crucial. Being reader-funded gives my work something valuable that many content creators don't have: true independence.

1. Your support means I can write about what matters. I'm not chasing sponsorships or compromising my voice to please advertisers. I can pursue stories and topics I believe are important, creative, and thoughtful, regardless of their commercial appeal.

2. Your support means I don't have to chase viral trends. Instead of engineering clickbait or jumping on every passing bandwagon, I can focus on creating thoughtful content that genuinely adds value to your life.

3. Your support means this content remains freely accessible. My work stays available to everyone, including those who can't afford to contribute financially right now. Quality independent content should be accessible to all.

I understand not everyone is in a position to contribute, but if you found any value in this post you can

For the price of a coffee, you'll enable me to invest more time in creating in-depth, creative journal posts and episodes of the Stone & Signal podcast. If you'd like to contribute more, consider purchasing one of my e-books (priced at roughly two cups of coffee) – a way to support my work while gaining additional value for yourself.

Thank you for considering. Your support makes all the difference.

— Lawrence Nault