The Silver-laced seat of power sits before the gold-plated crucifix.
The lesser ones sit in duplicates of six.
The stranger scans the room with trained eyes.
And charms the watching audience with precise lies. 
His lips quiver in reference to aged symbols.
His fingers circle in adoration of ancient enroll.
He sits steadily in the middle of comfort and torment.
And demands silence in the execution of judgment.

 

Blog: Beautiful Insanity