Garbed in sacred luminescence,
Three coats, blue-heaven incandescence.
Attacks of frenzy? Lack composure?
Know religion blows without some closure!
You're crystal, fragile, stain-glass rattle-
all templed- words chewed- low as cattle.

You praise God (peeking!) Time's now 'seven.'
Wound-up, alarmed. Hands raised to Heaven.
Devoutly say, shout-lift loud refrain-
chime as 'eight', ring 'nine', 'ten' toll. Profane!
Such surplus exceeds Love's needs! . Confess,
Vile self-cellar's crevice -snake? venom? YES-S-S-S!

Shelley Byron Keats

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beyond-belief/