Critical Mass

Critical Mass

Darkness crawls across the land.

As woman, child, creature, man,

Spewing forth from the holy cup,

 The hidden dross it piles up.

Like Parzifal our arrogance,

Were locked outside against the fence.

Just one touch, just one glance,

With this cup, the curse romance.

But with this hope, of coupling,

We have deftly forgotten,

Our Fisher King,

And with his tears, the lands fertile heart.

The Fisher King, he alone does wail,

Held up in his fortress, jail.

Cragged and scarred, the land near death,

Parzifal exhausted no questions left.

The King upon the cathedral aloft,

Gazing down he is sick of it all,

His skin like leather, his bones like glass,

As Parzifal walks away, the King falls to his,

Critical Mass.