Market Place Poem by Adrian Wait

Death was on the tree
Draw the lot, Cast the dice,
He died for you, and me
Tearing at the cloak
Divided, now they lie
Declaring not the Man, to men
And how He came to die.
Grasping the right hand seat,
Denouncing others false
Embers settle at their feet
Sitting on a deceitful throne
In arrogance they claim,
Natural selection, the true branch
We do this in His Name.
Wearing cloaks of pride
Chariots of hate their race
They buy apostolic rights
From the market place.
Thirty silver pieces
A Crown of ashes buys
Good news for sale
Falsehood no disguise.
In the Market Place