patterned prayers titter over waves
of solemn parishioners rueful reciting
echoes of eager unearned blessings

voiceless vague I bend bow kneel
knowing nothing of your stern truths
needing more than harsh your verses

stones alone coldly welcome my steps
over tearful trodden paths of marble
enshrouded seamless by morbid time

glance askance as disturbed you prefer
at solitary wanderers smelling of lilac
but boldly bedecked I taunt your malice

take from me naught but what I will,
demand of me nothing you would not
willingly of yourself to paupers proffer

cease your pointless eviscerating prattle
cradling more of deliberate arrogance
than humility in your sickly embrace

how dare you honest hearts condemn
while confessing lies to salve your souls
wrapped in pretentious self-adoration

there is more truth in sorrowed silence
greater precision in the wail of a child
than in all the boastful prayers you utter