While I recognize the hypocrisy
Of my words, held in plain view by daylight,
I cannot help but state the facts that cause
Me to lose hope, move me to hate my friends,
To descend into darkness where I may
Never mend. Shall I tell you how it came
To pass how I was lost even while
At mass? You were there, were you not? As I
Sought about for something to say, some thought
That would not lead me astray, yet you did
Not act upon what you saw, but with nods
Of prayer, full of reflection, deceived
Your eyes of my distress, continued on
Your path of self righteousness, while
I felt more and more duress. Thus like a
Man who hath fallen down into some cave
Do I now labor about, I so slave
To escape my dreaded prison, of which
I have no name to give; such is my life,
A darkness, an abyss where in I live.
Wherein I have talents I would give.
Were you not charged thus, to set free captives,
Held by such chains? Then why do you not act
Upon the Word made clear by homilies?
Held back perhaps by some mad, unknown fear?
You are like a man brought out of darkness,
Who having seen the great light did rejoice!
But having found your place among the light
You forgot your message and in such spite
Did seek to move further up, further in,
Until those left behind, those still in sin,
Were but the memory of some distant
Shade that once did battle with your soul through
The battlements of your eyes. The slit by
Which you still defend yourself, your fortress,
That tower of iron and stone, prevents
You from bringing in any others still
Lost. Should you not like Plato said announce
Such Words of heavenly bread to those still
Left in darkness and dread? Why do you sit
Upon the precipice so sharp as teeth,
That mouth that seeks to consume heart and soul,
That gaping maw which prevents us to leave?
For how can we leave unguided by phial
light, bright as that of Galadriel's might?
Should Frodo so escape his prison as
He was? Naked, devoid of any love?
You lack the heart of the Gaffer, inside
You are merely afraid to walk outside
And give this light to others; errant knave!
Yet looking here deep within, my heart of
Stoney wrath, I cannot help but see my
Sin. I preach, yet do not follow, no trust
Will I give to they whom I do attend.
So now listen well, my hearts cry, my plea;
That you should not descend into such hell,
Please, my dear friends, do not end up like me!
For having seen the light I did so contend
With disbelief and now might never mend,
But for the hope that is still in my heart,
That someday the Light shows my better parts.
For I did see the light and thought to live,
But through painful spite I forgot to give.
Hell's Bells, (C) Luke Bennette, March 2012
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