Now and again a man of cloth <br />turns, late at night, into a moth. <br />Attracted by electric lights <br />he rises to exotic heights. <br />When night gives way to a new day <br />the man comes back, he needs to pray, <br />as this is his true destiny. <br />(A boring job, if you ask me) . <br />Of course, a life with the good book <br />beats working as a Salvo cook, <br />but why the need to metamorph <br />into a rather useless dwarf, <br />with wings not made for height or speed? <br />Perhaps some strange, perverted need, <br />to balance goodness against sin <br />while God determines who shall win? <br /> <br />So, in my search for a delusion <br />I've now arrived at the conclusion: <br />A moth inside the House Of God <br />is -to some folks- a trifle odd. <br />If you can't find Man o' the cloth <br />you can be sure he's in the moth.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/man-of-the-cloth/
