The Sunlight's Opinion of Christ's Last Evening Meal

Crestfallen,
I am broken up again;
As I stare at the golden table before me,
Gazing forward, glancing backward, too and fro,
Asking what to do and where to go?
Have I known you all from a different time,
When men soared beside da Vinci’s mythical devices?
Perhaps I have and you knew me then as now.
From the Golden Horn to Christea Turris,
You poured our flame and bellowed from prow.
Oh! Our honors! How they float through the sky!?
Beneath foamy current and stardust, I’d abide.
On my crest I shall never obtain,
They should inscribe plentiful arcane symbols necessary for heretics
And give the lord his cup back
After removing the mirror from the center of the wall.