Naught But Silence

Naught but silence issues from saintly spectres,
Stained in hallowed glass,
Despite doctrine, booming  from priestly lecterns,
Of the great Judgement at the last;
No hymn for the Chaste,
Nor curse for the Hedon’ calls you away,
So how cite thee faith,
When keeping the seething basilisk at bay;
They spoke to you of a bloated wraith,
that they had named their God,
But when our love encounters faith,
Faith is left scattered and awed;
So fear not to disrobe on hallowed ground,
No Wrath nor Thunder shall be found.