The Magic Circle or Circular Magicians, reblogged

I wrote this a couple of years ago after being challenged by someone on Twitter to write a sonnet about the "Magic Circle".

A sonnet: verse, but not poetry.



About two thousand years ago, twelve men,
None a Greek decadent, nor Roman swell,
Met a mere Carpenter, as the Gospels tell,
And changed the world. With works, prayer, tongue, and pen
They touched hearts, minds with Fire. Again and again
Viking, Dane, Moor, and Tartar failed to quell
Its clarity and warmth. But last befell
That misread Council of the Vatican.

Smiling clerical traitors set to work.
Gently more fatal than the warlike Turk,
Bishops and intellectualisers broke
The Papal bond. Imposed a newer yoke.
In Mary's Dowry they smirk, "Ditch the traditions!
Trust not in Popes, but Circular Magicians!"