Looking for leadership, men hand away
wholeness, so glad to signal their salute
as shadows. They celebrate legs of clay
from the riskless safe asylum of the mute.
This flock, prized by church royalty and priests
is soothed to know their sins are not their fault.
Alliegance elevates their souls from beasts,
so long as the donations do not halt.
No righteous wrath is needed to destroy
the castes of wealth and race and better men,
nor honor to adore, nor purest joy,
Need burden, nor arrouse their guilt again.
There's difference between a throne and shrine -
the moon has light because the sun has shine.