Rock Bottom

"I am no man of law," the stone-faced senator pleadeth, 

"The Holy Spirit breathes the words I speak." 

For legal light his blinded eye is weak,

He sows the wind where ancient honor bleedeth,

And harvests naught but silence for our needs.

A fortress build't of paper, white and thin,

A sword of blossoms from a hand of clay;

The Temple of the Law has gone astray.

When stone is hollow'd by the rot within

We hit the floor where buried ghosts begin.