Sunday Sonnet!

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Outside the camp their villains crucified,
A fitting end who patronage disdain,
No matter gold with dross identified,
Stigma of vile rejection shall remain;
Offenders with Offenceless, side by side,
Hang eerily against a darkening sky,
While Grace supremely reigns, to none denied,
The world of mourners seems to go awry;
Sad followers in desolation leave,
Save huddled group at foot of central tree,
The passing of Beloved One to grieve,
Unmindful that His passing sets them free.
Inside the camp hypocrisy persists,
Where naked compromise of truth exists.

©Meanderings 2018

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