He struggles to set you all free: A poem 

Do they think they can modify God? 

Do they think they can hijack his ring and rod? 

He made himself vulnerable to bear the roughshod 

of the treachery of sapiens, who think they are Lord 

You can see that bread and wine are no hallucination 

At that table, the gavel had a failure of destination 

Can the fish swallow God? Yet, what are the odds 

of the treacherous Prakash Saint Paul going where he really belongs? 

I can be nobody’s child. I wasn’t preached to at the guild 

My grandmastery was subject to the most brutal wild! 

I bled, I shed, I didn’t wed, go to bed. I was denied. 

God dares to be lowly and slowly. And has he, sometimes, cried? 

You can stone him to death; burn him at the stake; hijack his make 

He keeps coming back to keep his astray creation awake 

Whose money did you all take, and poor God forsake? 

He struggles to set you free; can’t you all, at all, see?