Nothing you find

See, you have found nothing valuable
It is all as good as stubble
No glory herein
And your actions do prove it.

Twenty weeks have passed here
And I have poured my libations-
Devotions seen and breathed
Actions now and tomorrow.

These you have looked upon
With grey and pink face
Black and white smirk
Devoid of direction.

Twenty weeks now set upon me
And I have not seen your Sun;
My libations still flowing
My prayers still chanted
Still you withhold your Sun.

Indeed, you have found no value;
For flowers, olive oil, whole grain have I poured,
Even the red blood and flesh that goes with it
You answer still with the black of night.