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Poem	Make no mistake; there will be no forgiveness; No voice can harm you and no hand will save; Fenced by the magic of deliberate darkness You walk on the sharp edges of the wave; Trouble with soul again the putrefaction Where Lazarus three days rotten lies content. Your human tears will be the seed of faction Murder the sequel to your sacrament. The City of God is built like other cities: Judas negotiates the loans you float; You will meet Caiaphas upon committees; You will be glad of Pilate's casting vote. Your truest lovers still the foolish virgins, Your heart will sicken at the marriage feasts Knowing they watch you from the darkened gardens Being polite to your official guests.
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