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The Flesh of False Prophets

Thou sibyl dressed in black.
Sing us your deceptive aria,
and instill in us
the values of faith.

The wooden altar
and twisted cross,
conceal your cloak and dagger.

Your tales of foretold prosperity and substance,
awaken our forged hope
in the Omnipotent.

Foolish and beguiled we are,
but hopeless and aghast we are not.
Your wavering protection
shelters us from our conviction
until the temperature rises,
the fire consumes us
and our trusting hearts melt to ash.

© False Miracles
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