A Poem on Authoritarian Centralism
Our cathedral soars to the highest of heights,
For only our cathedral can illuminate this world.
It casts its rays through portrait and window,
Impressing its image on the faces below.
For how else should folk come to see the light?
Our cathedral captures the awe of the world,
For only our cathedral can be beautiful.
The angels we carved are to be knelt before,
Their hands grasping to all that are sore.
For how else should folk come to find comfort?
Our cathedral transcends the world of men,
For only our cathedral can distil the unknown.
Creation, existence, and its endless complexity
Is understood only through our bishops and liturgy.
For how else should folk come to know what and when?
Our cathedral will stand the test of time,
For only our cathedral resonates with harmony.
The hymns; they ring along the columns, into the earth,
Lacing the seed of the fruit we birth.
For how else should folk come to speak in rhyme?
Our cathedral is the beginning and the end,
For if there were no cathedral, there would be nothing to marvel.
No grace, no order, no righteousness.
There must be no world without our cathedral,
And with that, no folk without our cathedral.
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