The Ecclesiastical Empire

 

A city of basilicas adorned with wealth

Art treasures occupy every niche

Their magnificence is overwhelming

An expression of beauty adornes even their lintels

Candles flicker before statues and icons

The prayers of the faithful on their knees

The poorest invariably give more than they can afford

 

Domes, cupolas and stained glass

The fragrance of incense

All are sentinels or outposts

of the Church's grand empire

A power to be reckoned with

A self appointed moral barometer

Courted by royalty

 

At sunset their doors are closed for the night

Outside on the steps vagrants and immigrants

wrapped in paper and cardboard

try to sleep with empty belllies

and little hope of mercy

"The poor you will always have with you"