Your Literalism bankrupts utterly & latterly drives The Son to self-slay
Is ours alone the catastrophe of endless cataphoric delay?
Your Credit's Golgotha's the Gedankenlosigkeit Cemetery of over-extension.
Till its uncorellated asymmetry works that sentence's suspension!
Prince! thus did thy Mantrin Maharaj with Doubting Thomas dispute
So savoury the roast seed of His bitterest fruit!