Men of the Cloth

We are the Men of the Cloth
With our solemn signs
And our simple cloaks
And our denomination.

We wear white, mostly,
Like albino bats perching.
Our heads rushed and heavy,
Feverish with faith.

At night we keep our fire
Inside the alabaster cave,
Brandishing long shadows of
Limbs like lances.

Soon, the poison star will rise,
Searing through our 
Ivory crested guise, 
Leaving tiny eyes of void.

Through these hollows
We will search (with salt and ash)
For cold impartial truth
And an aperture for conscience.

Dale Chou
2012-06-04