Gathering for mouth and heart grandeur to a new fine art
To many it may feel unjust,
without the greed and upper crust
The dawning days not made to last
while under Simon's roof amassed
A man's deceit and other voices,
burdening, eternal choices
Tables worn with wine and fever
still supply the disbeliever
Yet, cannot tell his learned friend
this feast, alas, draws near the end
Come, diner, with him sit around,
effeminate, or muscle bound
To read his soul and dine on grace
a vision never to efface
Cleanse and drying weary feet
feeling comfortably replete
Embittered though from heart to womb
she but a vessel to exhume
He carries love and condemns sin
yet wears her like a signet ring
Dining on both bad and good
he calls to feast but serves no food.........
In Simon's house they all were fed,
a revelation left for dead
Plates sit cold and goblets dry -
fills up the willing to comply
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