some mark of virtue on its outward parts.
The world is still deceived by ornament,
by hearts as false as sand, by promises
forsworn, by law corrupt when seasoned with
a gracious voice obscuring dark intent.
This vanity of flesh and blood called Man!
Why must I hold a candle to my shame
when every fool can play upon a word?
deceived by pious ornament
whose hearts are all as false as stairs of sand
to roll beneath the weight of certainty.