The self-ordained Elect

From the Platform of Years,
Rough-hewn in timeless blend
Of silken tongue and fashioned
Fear ’til smoothly polished by
The sweat and tears and blood
Of salted serfs, the members of
The self-ordained Elect gaze
Down upon the scorchèd Earth
And praise the architects for all
Their artificial worth and on they
Dream to seem to be the sacred,
Necessary cogs – as priests who
Do profess to comprehend and
Represent a god.

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