(Written in ABABCC)

 

I sat, then rose, then sat, and sang

I spoke to the sky, the Trinity above

Behind the priest, the saviour hangs

HE said no words, HIS silence was love

I could not judge the MAN who saved us all

But who was HE? Nothing but a symbol on the wall

 

My sanctuary, my place of peace, I arrived

HE was also there, according to the WORD

Perhaps HE knew, of course, HE did, the thought I had connived

HIS word was MEN’s, they used it best and controlled the unheard

They knew not how we suffered, how we laboured and failed

It was these bitter thoughts that I inhaled

 

I read to rebel, I write as a mutiny

To the MEN who thought I and others as inferior

I read the WORD, the beginning of the lunacy

And as I continued, my world grew drearier

How had we come to such a painful point that I felt nothing but boiling hate?

And with this engraved thought, it was now late

 

With the rise of the sun, my resentment had cooled

I had sat with my thoughts and wondered what was the land of the superior.

Back to my sanctuary, my theory in mind, to find what could be proved

And yet, what I found made this much trickier

There was Shakesphere, the Master of language, HIS text lasting beyond HIS time

Mozart, the Master of music, HIS sister’s work ignored, though considered sublime

 

This taught me naught, I thought, for HE had always won

There was nothing to lose when HE was born

Nothing to lose but HIS own place, HIS fear of being outdone

HE crushed those beneath HIMSELF, HIS fear covered with scorn

HE could do what he pleased, HIS very presence an overrule

No one would win, but the possibility was HIS fear, HIS motive for being so cruel

 

It was with this, I understood

HIS fear was of loss, while mine was of continuity

These habits and worries born from childhood

Though the question I held was if it would stay as such for perpetuity

I could not judge the man who hung behind the priest 

But who was he? Nothing but a man, long deceased