A Mystery Poem by Raymond Farrell

It's a mystery
No it's not
It's A MYSTERY
With a capitol M
For sure
As if capitalizing
The word
Somehow adds credence
To the assertion that
This bread
Upon being blessed
Becomes the body of Christ
And this wine
Becomes His blood
Linguistically
It is a gross misinterpretation
Of the original language
Bordering on utter stupidity
But theologically
It is a sacrilege
Of the vilest order
Because it is
Nothing short
Of a cannabalistic ritual.