Lord of Our World

Lord of our world, dressed in silken robes
draping from shoulder to your loin, your
pointed-nose sticking out, skin pale gray
with an eye carved of gem facing the door-
your brow pointed, arching the sky.

Lord of our world, master of all who
with voiceless stare, binds the slave
for crumbs which he fails gather
from the fly who, from before you, raves-
your gaze hardened, doming your face.

Lord of our world, before whom
children bow earning not a ruthless smile,
and worrying women weep for their
husbands who for your wife compile-
their lives, extol your praise.

Lord of our world, behold and see
your throne of wood that under your
weight cracks the earth, hollowing
applaud, the wind carrying your robe-
your naked body in the cold.

Lord of our world? Look upon
your carved eye in the mirror
of your existence, the nose that
grows an inch more each day-
the fly flees with your crumb.

Lord of our world? Extend your brow,
take off your mask, strip your clothes
relieve your skin of leprosy and
move your pupil but a degree-
heave not your slave to do so!

Lord of our world, nay- behold your rule,
rejoice in your kingdom created from
your domed gaze, the temple mounted
by two pillars, holding you still, and from above-
another Lord strikes you down.