The Pulpit


Bless’d is me,

I cry for you,

Misery is thy nature,

Bliss is mine,

I am water,

You are wine.

I give-

Thou take.

I love-

Thou hate.

Fool, riding

 Atop a carousel you cannot control.

The secret’s with me,

It I do hold.

Which makes me the winner-

And thou the sinner.

So pluck thy heart out from its haven,

I know it is stone, the slivers unshaven.

I shall hover above thy grave- you buried underneath,

Beside your tomb, I shall lay a black wreath,

Posies of poisons and thorns, laced with ale.

I offered you truth to drink from the Grail,

but you ate the lie,

How my wisdom could have kept you alive.

Alas, chosen is thy end,

Woe is you,

The devil He sends.


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