Building Castles in the air
And every mountain and hill brought low;
The crooked places shall be made straight
And the rough ways smooth;”
Soaring glass houses in the London skies
Shrink the deserted souls of EC 1.
There grow commercial plants that fertilize
The f.t. index by a deal well done.
Pretty palaces where the cool, jet set
Drive in darkened windows on alloy wheels;
Which rotate around the secret text and debt
In guarded boardrooms and brunch- type meals.
Life is wealth for such giants of the air
Served by tube and Liverpool Street station;
The stocks and bonds without guilts and care
For the needs of the poor and their own salvation.
God sees the hearts of these important men
Who dispense numbers from their golden towers.
He writes history’s balance sheet with His pen
New Babel falls by mans’ own fallen powers.
Yet in the shadow of Goliath’s feet
Lies a sacred stone of royal David’s line;
St. Botolph’s within the good Bishopsgate
Where wounded souls are healed by bread and wine.
High life soon stumbles and submits to grief
Let white flags of surrender be unfurled,
Your treasure be beyond the hand of thief
Walk humbly in the graveyard of the world.
26th
August 2006
