Picture at an exibition

"The Nunnery" it was a an impressive piece between the royal kings and queens
Portraits full of flattery, ermin robed, but all these held no stories
The artist like the poet uses metaphores
 A life of devotion and hidden prayer,  the natal unit the children abandoned at the door the sting like nettles in the foreground woven in the form of hearts.
To lead a pious life of formic acid  so contrite
Christ on the cross looks down his skin brown like nicotine, benevolence a tan of sweetness but his halo's neon shine is dull and dim
Reflected in the pools the devils nymph beware the sins of the flesh, the ripples  
A nautilus of satans stealth to walk on water but it sinks, the candles chased illuminates each face, upturned to be vital not taste the fathoms of disgrace
Swamp the calm of all the sisters faith.
The abbess casts a northern gaze her hands point up in prayer, but her compass has been rocked the fabric torn the walls all cracked
To be married to the saviour in that niche  that god provides
Sometimes to be nomadic and walk the path with him, the hills of pilgrimage
loves  great devotion.
Bear the weight of crucifixtion and share the sorrow that hanging image  brings
 Like the monochome of scripture just dressed in black and white