A Poem
Our dear Mother Church,
Who, yes, is always inherently
Rent yet at this time,
We sense moreso …
With birth-pains of the New Christianity.
We’ve tried but cannot be just of thee
And barely even in.
For shepherds of another fold have we
(Thanks Father God)
Who strive with heart-won strength of clarity
To show the esoteric path ahead
And remove your priests’ obscurities
Which have sadly hidden our Christ from view.
Yet these two folds will ultimately be one.
Until such time we will also call from within thy choir
To thy blessed saints and martyrs near
For this harmony is my love’s desire.
No comments:
Post a Comment