Reserata Carcerem XXXIV

Erstwhile, travelled a monk to heav'n -
that Holy Grail.
Borne on trance's wings - pride cloven.
Got he at 't gate:
And the angels all were silent.

Where pale Cynthia shed her order,
for its great wall
pukes rare radiance, beams and Jasper -
and the gate's tall:
And the angels all were silent.

Then his fingers, this marred monk wrapped
into knuckles
on the gate - cacophony clasped ;
his grit trembled:
And the angels all were silent.

Saw he wings in gay - sumptuous spree.
Its floor of gold.
His voice he raised and did quethe:
"Allow me in. Oh!":
And the angels all were silent.

"Why should I?" Waves of waters spoke.
He was not moved -
Knew he in what awe his Lord's robed.
"Why shouldn't you?":
And the angels all were silent.

"The biles of life I made my meal.
Awed no nuptials.
Apt azure rarely did I see,
for thy rituals.":
And the angels all were silent.

"Thy convent was my bosom friend.
Your book my zeal.
E'en for thy sake had I no friend,
oft was my plea.":
And the angels all were silent.

"To sages'n'lord was I a plague.
Graces met gloom.
Yet yond this, torn ticker sin craved.
Why shouldn't you?":
And the angels all were silent.

Now moaning, marred monk quit his rhymes,
'waiting the sage.
'gain ROCK OF AGES quoth mid smile:
"Know you my name?"
And the moaning monk was silent.
      '20:07:04:09:05