And it is 'He' you bow to.

Silent screams and pleading
Amidst tolling bells of preaching
And sightless beacons claiming
Beholding a path for all those wary
Of crushed souls and crumbled hopes
Of parched throats and hungry woes
To those who kneeled, begged and cried
Were assured persistence of all wrath and denial
Those preachers attest opening of doors
I demand they glance beneath their robes
Those hypocrites exhorting peace and love
Blinding us mortals for their greedy lust
Burn them at the stake before
They make our humanity their unworthy whore
I stumble, I fall, I stand again
Owing no particular gratitude to His hidden self
And while those who stoop and plead
I stand and mend all that made me bleed
I gasp, I pant, I puff and wheeze
But then these arms build what the eye sees
And while you may resume banging 'His' door
May I suggest you save your breath and time
For 'His' deep slumber you shall not breach
Your skeptical eyes will look me down
But then I'm not the man who stood on that rock
'His' saviour, 'His' follower, or the one 'He' mocked
And now I'll proceed to focus on all that comprises 'me'
While those unconvinced, I beg to bow and plead.