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If It Cannot be Known to a Child, Can it Be True? Much was told, Boniface was never guarded with me. His monks about thought we but played chess. In a way we did. The conspiracy against the Knights of the Temple Sorely taxed our grace together. My opposition voiced their rights to the secrets their Time and presence abroad had earned. Defenders of the Church harped a different tune, One that dwelt hard upon their own vassal's arrogance, Hard knights that had left heritage for That of God, But with the patronage of Kings still to make bid. The rest, coming to be known about these stout lords, but sanctioned lies, Though not by me or the Host I served to all ends. Perhaps our bitter parting, stinging a corrupt Pope even the staunch Catholicity of Dante despised, The words resounded off columns the same as marble walls, [You plunder the estate of men that wrap themselves in more fitting warmth than sable or ermine, Just to know that Jesus came to end idolatry not sanctify it.] ...had something to do with Justice sparing the Times the Infamy Of watching the dog gloat over his bone. ______Balzan, summoned angel of the Host |
Additional Notes:
Boniface VII died shortly before his conspiracy with the King of France and others,
against the Knights Templar could realize fruition. History has sought to divorce his
part in the matter from its full historical import.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2007-01-05 21:04:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90909
James,
I find this facinating, the way you lay out the verse, the story you tell and your own view point. This is exquisite reading which will require that I re-read several times to take in it's full impact. If you have no objection I'd like to keep a copy of this to read again at leisure. I look forward to more of this style and subject. It's like sitting before a fire with a good wine and classical music.
Lora