Alan Walsh - Obedience

They know not the way of fleshly love,
Those gnostic ones who praise above,
Searing decisions of the heart averted,
Cloistered confines content the soul,
For the candles and incense are whole,

Those tidy minds scouring the pain,
Of perhaps a soul's repent in vain,
Minds decided to hear of sins confided,
Death is the hallowed gateway to above,
Earthly cloth discarded for heaven's love.

Alan Walsh

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/obedience-3/