Contribute to it I can not,
Unholy garden of decay.
Generation upon generations,
Have defiled this sanctuary in which we all once prayed.
Fallen bodies turn to dust,
The dust from whence we all once came.
And they salt the soil of this earth,
While the pattern remains the same.
Forever barren we have made this wasteland,
And forever barren it should stay.
And let whatever still remains,
Wither until it too shall fall away.

Some may blame this our ruin,
On a fall from grace and holy treason.
And that alone is but to blame,
For this, our impossibility of reason.
These conclusions derived from ancient books,
Meant to inspire the hopeless into faith.
Contain instead the warrants and declarations,
That have laid this shrine to waste.
The proclamations of the evil righteous,
Perverted oratory taken as final word.
Have manipulated the hordes of weak and imprudent,
From the time man first cast his iron sword.
And yet there are still others,
Who say this is but our true unmasked and open form.
Empty vessels with empty conscience,
From the moment our wretched soul is born.
Yet whether nature inherent or sin eclipsed,
Our path has remained forged and eternally unchanged.
Never breaking from this vile cycle,
That we ourselves arranged.

Contribute to it I can not,
Yet still I cannot look away.
Nor play the fiddle whilst Rome burns,
And pretend that things are not this way.
So instead I choose my own path,
To let what remains wither and decay.
Until this desecrated unholy cathedral,
Turns to dust and falls away.

© 2010 By AB Frank, All Rights Reserved

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