DPRK: A poem

A nod to the new God

The room is high, and long, and cold,
And there, in the centre, the coffin holds
The body of the country's God,
And silently across the floor
They approach him, four by four
To circle, genuflect and nod.
For all who see him there must bow
At feet, at sides, at waxen brow;
An act of worship, seeking grace.
They do not see that this is creed,
If not in name, then sure in deed,
To look upon the saviour's face.
So what is it, if not true faith
To sanctify the leader's wraith
With trappings of a holy writ?
Raise marble temples in his name,
Accord him immortal, true, acclaim
And to his memory submit?