They themselves once sowed at cost,
For: “Greater Glory of God!”
Now they turned upon the Chair,
And took what He had planted,
And took what He had Christened.
But still vow to keep their orders,
To keep while going native.
Then for what for greater glory?
While affirmed to treat The Order.
But they desecrate their office,
To organize their fetish,
And lie among the branches,
Like the snake that strikes the talus,
And inside our very orchard.
That job he had, it bought him years.
Post War years lived for pleasure.
But how could he know?
From what he knew, for what he knew they taught him.
Never that which came in days, those days called Christendom.
Instead he is to bask in sin, this Occidental horror.
Silent in their
Doubt the rainfall
And make fast
Unless the Craft
To have eyes
Where for art
Your sense of loss