Tuesday, 24 August 2010


Open your soul to the old world
And piece together its stories;
Peel back the blackness that
Has trapped them.

See the scores of heretics
And martyrs starting out
Along the paths that captured
Their attention.

Watch them fall before the
Sensible hoards who swept
The corners of religion free
Of truth seekers.

Look at the ruptured masses
Grasping what was given
By the living word of books
And crooked bishops.

Catch the light that scatters
From the cracks that crept
Into the august mess left in
The Lord’s name.

View the cleanest scenery
Beneath moth-eaten cloths
Once lifted from good gifts
Initially given.

Then close your soul knowing
That its purity is surer now
The crown of love has finally
Been enthroned.

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