The needless beggar woke with his hands held to his sides
Confronting mirrors openly at ring-side suicides.
Beneath the yellow curtain tail sat Paige in rings and bows.
A staff stuck in her wrists from television shows.
All together, all obliged, all set deep in wrath.
A Kingdom set upon a hill in ruins built with trash.
"Goddamn the victim victors, so vicious and so vein!"
Cried Paige the print-shop printer with head dipped low in shame.
The children in meadow eyeing cattle on a stake
Crucified Christ-like beings confronting human created fate.
"Paige, the day's upon us in shimmering clouds and plumes"
I'll seek your eyes forever and hide inside their rooms"
"The beggar's looming at our gate and calling out for bread
The earth is turning slowly by and shines above our bed."
The stones of faith are casted and collected each in bowls
As hopes and dreams possessed and lost are kept and held then thrown.
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