The secret society met secretly,
Their stupidity to hide.
The vow to be secret, the only
Accomplishment inside.
A secret isn’t worthy
Unless the ivy covered wall
Of its secrecy remains silent, and never falls.
If any holy secret
Be found along the path,
And you stoop to examine it,
You can’t help but laugh.
Can this be what high symbolism means?
Unpleasant music of moral disorder?
Calculating hearts with empty dreams?
A wet cave, which goes no further?
