The Decree

The old house in which the heaven dwells

Like a moth on the bluish agony of the flame

there comes beside a saint a crooked thief to

part with his life lived usually on the streets

The saint could fit the scene like a wobbly walker

who desired more than moon every part of the sun

He would call the prayers a heavenly muse and an

angel came down to greet and thief parted with

the memory of all these the garden was lit like

the faint sounds of night calls as God was dressed

in motley hue. The colourless water nonetheless

a saintly fluid. the thief took the decrees there is

night calling for the party to go on and freeze .

The decree launched by the angels in footless merry

making and followed all till the yonder could be seen.

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