Rusty stones of rich history,
Clasping debauchery and misery.
The luster of lauds that built
So sturdy and sacred a monument
To human ingenuity is gone.
The glory of God has left this place.

When men for comfort seek the less,
Placing their trust in self to impress
One another, human ingenuity is gone
For adventure's the empty pews and
Hope is the incensed processions replaced
By tourists, for God has left this place.

Carved and chiseled with ancient craft
Shaped by sun and rain and stringent draughts
She stands forgotten , old brown, dead windows,
While bustle rushes past the oldest building
of Amsterdam. Just that: The oldest building.
Heaven once met Earth right here, in this place.

But incense's been traded for coffee shops,
The light of His abode molded by red on top,
And the pentagon, that once let in light
Looks on the stone streets where spirits die.
Oh how low the hope of man has really fallen,
Not to see what could be, right in this place

Where's your crucifix oh ancient bauwerk?
The tourist go in and out, I dare not
My tears well. Where's your light? Salt?
The colors around ignore my pain.
Sin's for sale. Oh woe be all that
Took God's glory out of this place

(c) nyonglema

de Oude Kerk - exile in full view