Next time, a conscription of Christs,
A battalion of Jesuses,
With ordnance of fish will besiege
The mount and the incursive march
Of cheek after cheek after cheek

Will bring the mountain to its knees.
Emboldened meek will take the world,
Lord’s Words shall be wrought into Sword,
Love your enemies, not feigned in peace,
But barked, heartfelt, through teeth of war.

Awaiting more reinforcements,
Dusty-feet-shaking rank and file
Will cast their eyes out to the sky
To watch for mustard-seed complement
Of parachuting messiahs.