The Immaculate Concept

  

 

 

The destructive power of beauty takes it toll

An’ hell’s what happens if you lose control

Of all the tender things creating open doors

Nothing remains nothing if no one knows

Souls perish in a sweet decorative flourish

And memory clings in mirrors that cherish

An image retained in the beatified presence

Sacrificed and deified upon an altared icon

Sacred in the memory but lost in the detail

Of bargains struck and other dealings done

Enriching so many and impoverishing one

Street singing angel with the choir of love

Descending miracles from that god above

Transforming water into a sweeter flowing

Of wine and beauty from a song and rhyme

Heard beyond dreams and streams of tears

Falling inside the sound of a sacred image

Anywhere other golden beyond pure choice

Caressing truth writ blues apocalyptic voice.