Sermon In The Dark Poem by Patrick Frazier

Death is a keen watchman of his doors
Assigning the self righteous to fallen worlds
A holy sacrifice all his life

Death, the footman strolling beside
Memory's woeful streams
And in the shallows
A piece of armor
A harlot's moan
Or baby angel wings of bone

The Seraph of the Fall
Welcoming Winter into his hall
With wine poured, once more
For the human tragedy

Firelight bursts heaven's spark
What sermon spoken to the dark?

The holy books are burning
That no mortal hand can save
Words pass to angels
Arise and call their names.