Those Who Do Not Enter

Pious priests full of pomp praise a place, oh, so sweet,
Sing the odes on a land of peace unparalleled,
Realm they’ve not realized under their limping feet,
Kingdom they’ve never seen, its fragrance never smelled.
Vicars of morning stars — usurpers, substitutes,
Lordly and gracious in the name of their lord,
Conceal their ignorance in tomes and fancy suits,
Yet, simple comfort of truth — they can’t afford.
Reverent reverends, demons in human shape,
Mislead the lost, feeding on plight of desolate;
Repugnant puppeteers without hope to escape
Putrid cell of sheer lust to enforce will to fate.
Beasts beyond redemption made a free pick;
Providence irons out all what is sick.

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