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.

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