At night, I slipped beneath the belfry’s shade
and snapped the lock that hid the treasure’s gold,
such riches for my secret blasphemy.
A hallowed chalice on the altar where
the blood of Christ was poured—for them, perhaps.
But me? No, not for me. The evil I
had done! More evil still my lips to taste.
I took the sacred cup. A flask of wine.
The candlesticks. And with the crucifix
I smashed the tabernacle wide to snatch
the consecrated bread the priest had stored.
And once I bound my plunder fast, I stole
back home. I ate the host and filled with wine
the chalice up and drunkenly did swill
until I heard hell’s chuckling demon horde.
And as his blood was streaming down my face,
I threw the chalice gold against the wall,
and challenged God himself to strike me down
if from above his gaze could reach me here.
A whisper from the cellar deep—now louder.
Then, a screech, ”Come.”
Pale hands, they grasped the candlesticks. My legs,
like leaden stumps, dragged on against my will.
I strove to turn, but strength did not avail.
I felt his breath, a chill upon my neck—
that spirit in the candlelight now moaned,
“Upon the ground, it cries! Innocent blood!”
And wroth the blood-red wine did boil to life
upon the floor, sealing my fate as dark
the spreading shadows drew their quiet swords.
The bells thrice tolled.
And as blades plunged, a man stepped forth and took
the blow, and outward flowed water and blood.
Though stunned, my strength returned, and bending low
to broken body—shattered, what, for me?
I fell and held him close against my breast
as shadows fled across the waking walls.
He wiped my tears away and gazed into
my eyes as blood once more did stain the ground.
Then softly kissed my face three times and sighed,
“I have bought you.”
Origen would subscribe (maybe?)…
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My goodness 🫠🔥✝️
Beautiful!