The laws and graces of hypocrisy  

two, prosecuted, paired, and peering over battlefields divine

Their christ, in his rejuvenated essence, he shouts, your woman must be such swine

No longer our lord since our lips touch that fruit forbade, gently cascading above our temped heads

Down near my feet, marrow of young damned be seen in contrast with the saved and delighted,

Fused in stagnant prostration in awe of their Great Defeat

Of a promised eternal destination across the hedge of decaying green

Along a sea of cloudy blessing and reject a line Gods have placed with a fist of allegorical strength

                                   His council’s rigor of implication of law and of grace

The soil remains the one who shall rein while -

underfoot of the gods and his army alike

They tread on foot then whine above

The law grants chaos and suffering in one, where graces granting love

Their hatred rots into darkened despair

for those adjacent, While, in his gracious hypocrisy they breathe clean air