The guilty charge was made with blackened stare
Like Thomas More before King Henry’s chair
The evidence collected long before
The judgment cast from fashioned egregore.
The’ mea culpa’ heard but raised too high
The angry tears are turned into a lie.
The lie is set in stone and devil made
The judge a statue fixed with eyes of jade.
The form is cast for this banishment day
The picture set, as real as Dorian Gray.
The love, the warmth, forgotten in a flash
Of hate into the wall of calm to crash
And bricked up in the column of the church
To hear and see but never share the search.
And as the soul along the nave to prayer
The one accused in never shown a care
And slowly does he waste inside the stone
Among, aloof, betrayed and so alone.