When Push Met Mortar

I’ll tell you a tale in fragrant time of my illustrious decree,
how when push met mortar the beams beneath responded with cackling cracks.
When the anthem fell just short of tune with melancholy unforeseen,
it glimmered with emerald flecks ingrained at my feet where it convened.

I will not hold you at fault sir for I’m sure it was in best interest,
that you called upon your fellow dons to lay my love to rest.
Aye! You and those fellows cry, so brilliant in your resolve,
To tear down the gothic columns of lime that were built to meet the call.

I’ll write your bidding in permanent ink with my tattooed left hand,
but yet be warned I’ve never been one of true ambidexterity.
In stillness I’ll reiterate the lines pronouncing each holy phrase,
while worshipping the saint in my mind- the Lord of calamity.