THE CHURCH OF THE LOCKDOWN, THE LULL AND THE ESCAPE TO THE CATACOMBS
An epic poem, by Crusader Will. It is in 4 parts.
Part 1 of 4
PART I: A Bubble Dying to be Burst
For month our churches have been closed
To the Mass, the sacraments and prayer.
Now’s the time to get hard-nosed.
The alternative is cold despair.
Bad enough if it’s just the State
Clamping down in the name of health.
But it’s the Church too, quelling debate,
And waging war on our common wealth.
Yes: sanitary insanity
Versus the saints. Barricades get stormed,
But all in vain. O Vanity
Of vanities! Bugs all-style house-warmed!
Even at risk: age-old last rites.
The faithful fraught; long days, long nights;
Casualty figures a-swelling.
Wakes/funerals/interments : sparse.
That includes not only the deceased.
Oh, the days of Man are as grass,
Feeding only the burgeoning Beast..
Notwithstanding the Church and State bans,
Innovators splash out live-stream,
Or make cars-as-pews parking-lot plans
As underground heads the Norm-Stay Dream.
Or else: spiritually commune
And make reparation capital
Out of plain hostilities in tune
With a last satanic wrap-it-all.