Christian Theologian Poem by Patrick Frazier

This world the blue orb in my hand
A quiet thrill
An alcohol of freewill
Thoughts circling in fiery rings of stifled madness
When was the first motion?

Eyes in illo tempore
Sleeping under the willow arms of Eve
A tradesman preaches about the resurrection of Limbo
What sign? In what direction? For what end?

Mortal hands in gloves
And gloves in blood
Dissecting the corpse of evil

Pouring from whose shining eyes
Does the voice speak?
The crossed stars of the Virgin Mother
A Greek concept with a Judaic feeling
What thought must we use to save them?

A wooden cane leans against a wall
The staff becomes a snake
Creeping into crevices and expanding
To make the foundations quake
For the once and future apocalypse.