Drawn and Quartered

Four chambers...but one purpose,
Four Gospels live to tell,
A Sacred Heart...so wounded,
A lance launched straight from hell.

Our brokenness...bloodletting,
True Mystics judged insane,
King Science...throne ascending,
To deaden all our pain.

Four riders... on four horses,
Steeds rearing for a treat,
Our corpse...nears rigor mortis,
For Art not Logic meet.

But wait...a ray of His Glorious Sonshine...

One part...scholastic logic,
One part...mystical sight,
One part...scientific wonder,
One part...artistic light.

...and if ever two lungs breathed forth,
East-West...air that is sweet,
Aloft they'll send His Body,
Heartbeat...Heartbeat...Heartbeat.

Submitted by Mike Rizzio