Power  destroys the lives  of all its whores

Whirling in the winter wind, dead leaves
Dry and brown and broken ever more
Send their substance to the souls bereaved

People pray and yet do not believe
Christ was born  and angels  him adored
On the winter wind float dying  leaves

By our spirits may we be deceived,
Even in the heart’s most hidden core,
Sharing   presence with all us bereaved?

Look into the sun and fire  perceive
Power  destroys the lives  of all its whores
On the wind float  lingering, burned out leaves

For men of power think they can  God deceive
Yet even kings will die despite their  force
To lie in marble graves,  of love bereaved

Wrapped in cloths of linen, cream and coarse
With no coffin, Jesus  high  is borne
With the wind, with ashes , with dead leaves,
The photons of his love  light  hearts bereaved