The late past midnight winds of Rome
completed gusts of heat intoned
While sparks danced a chorusline aside beneath a smoke-shy moon awry From dreamy crackling crypt of hum
beneath the dying doctrines did come
As fate’s relayed chant all flung the
flames of purgation’s dance undone
While taxis crashed old obelisks of stone
While saints stared down fellow slate unknowns
The strolls of red fancypants turned into run
While makeupless nuns turned to wine for fun
While lex credendi books burned ex libri
The guiderules spurned for aspumanti
And popes emerged a three staged scene
of triple tiared circus ring
And forum was retorched from pillar to arch
As ghosts rebegan eerie, weary march
Through traditions of rubble of lies retold
Of Ceasars, Peters, Virgins withered of old. -rev1&prmd=insv&sxsrf=APq-WBvZD5OHrL6VuQdwapcVIAmjNqZi4w:1646414276305&source =lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwim492Q-6z2AhXhsVYBHekwDeIQ_AUoAXoECAIQAQ& biw=412&bih=785&dpr=1.75#imgrc=WtEa3W5yT59g4M&imgdii=Ce9RgbGdHmX2lM

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