When holiness, that sacred flame, is scorned,
And purity, a pearl, is cast to swine,
The world with jester’s tongue is overworn,
Its laughter drowns the whisper of divine.
The meek are mocked, their stillness deemed a flaw,
While brazen noise ascends the gaudy throne,
Yet in their quiet hearts abides the law,
A truth unshaken, carved in timeless stone.
Though cynics sneer and shadows veil the light,
The pure endure, their radiance concealed,
For what is mocked by day burns clear at night,
In silent grace, its power is revealed.
So let the scoffers wane, their jests decay,
True holiness shall rise at break of day.