The man of cloth walks the plank of meaning

The poetic plague
of purgatory cursed
the flying verse
that hit the wall
that broke into
tiny syllables;
sharp was the cross
of two swords drawn
that cuts the truth free,
flying the flag
from chains of lies
that held the temple
to ransom -
a taste of gold
settles the deed
and all the greed
that one can offer.
A church bell rings
supper is served
but the tables are empty
for under the moon
in silver glory
the pagans dance
tall rocks standing-
no religion here.