I hold a paper thin wafer of wheat aloft
Scarlet droplets spew forth from the cracked corpus,
Held by a like minded disbelieving priest from centuries past
Eyes flash open, only to see
The virginal white of the altar cloth before me
I raise the chalice and utter the words of consecration
As congregants kneel in awe and wonder
Believing these words bring about the transubstantiation
Speak the words, parrot the motions
Always the same, every single day
This sacred moment
The daily apex
The meaning for life in this world, this is what it used to be.
Now sinfully submerged in skepticism I
Dole out bread and wine to the congregation.
Brandoyd! 