Pity, the Monastic Life
Oh how I pity the monastic life
The mother church your only wife!
Too much means life’s ablation.
"Speak not, and from all detach"
What fool this plan did hatch?
What fool makes of himself
God’s puny mitered elf?
Cut off from what is real
“Trust not what thou doth feel.”
Wisdom ye seek, that is grand.
How can ye see, head in sand?
Oh, of the joys you’ll never know,
And the places you’ll never go.
What a sad shame, you’ll never taste
Life’s sweet bounty, gone to waste.
More’s the pity, the monastic life:
Such devotion to the lack of strife.
Were it engaged, this zeal for peace,
Might actually make evil cease.
~ Matt Terry ~
The Poet Pity the Monastic Life Quantum University Still Quiet Night Galaxy Rise! Over the Cataract Shadowplay Our Animal Nature Skhai-ku