Beneath yon chapel's shadowed spire,
The flames of truth, no saint's desire.
For names and faces doth decay,
As dust returneth to the clay.
Fret not, o man, for Peter's name,
Nor Mary's tears, nor Paul's acclaim.
'Tis not their mortal flesh we seek,
But virtue, strong when souls be weak.
For Abraham, whose blade did gleam,
Doth not command us to esteem,
His face, his hand, his ancient guise,
But faith that doth the heart baptize.
Nor Christ Himself, upon the wood,
Though His was flesh most pure and good,
'Twas not the bone, the skin, the vein,
But sacrifice that broke death's chain.
The prophets, kings, and saints of yore,
Be but the masks of something more.
Immortal Truth, beyond the veil,
Where flesh doth fade, and time doth pale.
Virtue alone, be heaven's mark,
A flame that flickers in the dark.
Not stone nor bone shall thee sustain,
But righteous deeds that shun all vain.
Thus, worship not the man or creed,
For symbols doth the blind mislead.
Lift high thy gaze beyond the grave,
Where faith, not form, doth rise and save.
Yet still, the ancient paths doth show
Where hearts should bend, and winds should blow.
Religion, like a compass clear,
Doth point the way, our souls to steer.
For in its laws and sacred scrolls,
The scales of justice weigh our souls.
Not perfect, yet it helps us find,
Where virtue lies, where vice doth bind.
So mark ye well the righteous path,
And tremble not at judgment's wrath.
Religion's truth, like ancient art,
Reveals the balance of thy heart.
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Lurk's Compendium of Dark Poetry (LCDP)
PoetryIn this collection of poetry, the veil is torn away, revealing the undercurrents of darkness that run through the human experience. These poems are raw and relentless, exploring the spaces where light fails to reach, and the truths we fear most come...
