The Evolution of the Christian Church

a sonnet

The church is cold and empty in
its blank modernity. The sin
has been washed out and autumn leaves
put in its place. From floor to eaves
it's been whitewashed, the church.
And God's facsimile, to teach
the truth of sacrifice with splintered cross,
is gone. Replaced with varnished lines. Amass,
and sing to what is left.
If anything was there at all. Bereft
of barbaristic faith,
we carry on with bake sales, the laith.
The British symbols cherished by
a world wanting gentility.
Written by Casted_Runes (Turpin)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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