He raised an altar minted out of coin,
where gods of change preserved their ancient law;
replacing prayer with blockchain’s coded join,
he walked with hunger that would never thaw.
Toward the lord of unseen global lines,
of nations’ flocks and unicorns of worth,
of dynasties and Hebrew burial signs,
crowned not without gold laurels from the earth -
the gatekeeper of palaces divine,
who guards the threshold of celestial halls.
Where temple and the market share one dome,
there words become a bond, and prayer a debt;
the sermon stands as profit’s annual sum,
and faith in capital is coded law, well set.
And shepherds leading sleepers into dreams
will chant a song engraved in passing years:
the mask falls off, and naked passion gleams -
sacred capital, religion, power, and fear.