Mortal Imagery

Martyred victim, sacrifice.
Once upon a time,
they named him Christ.
Then a hierarchy of power born
that damned his truth to hell.

Each priest, a plastered effigy -
celebrating death upon the
altars of their sacrificial dreams.
Flesh and blood turned back
into a dream of misconception.

Black candles lit, the fire burning
bright upon the darkness lived within.
Father, son, and holy ghost - allow us
to withdraw the most from thee.

Religious power structures schemed
to make the most of all that he'd redeemed.
Squandering the miracles of healing
he'd loved into existence.

The stench of slaughter rose to up on high.
Breathed in by those great angels flying by.
Soon or late, the heavens would amend
the once-given freedom built within
the wills of merely mortal men.

They've all abandoned us, you see.
Even the greatest of the deities.
Ah, but little goddesses have taken on
a springtime full of awesome faery wings.
Beseeching us to see them once again.
For there, within their particles of being,
a great forgiveness waits for us to claim.

Mother of the mortal world.
Earthen rites of power dwell
within the love that grows
into our hearts...

? Michaelette ?

10/10/2003
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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