My will will
bend to make room
Your arms have interfered with my resistance.
Art still takes Your form. Lend me your Eyes. Fill me with Your wish, Your
Wash me. I’m sick of striving in this wildwood. Your voice,
At last I hear it, silken milk and honey…soul warming articulation.
Give to me, that old-fashioned happiness that once, I knew. Away, I’m uncompleted.
Intention breaks, my drunken heart,
Thirsting and misguided. If I
Need the desert,
Then carry me there, the
Comradeship to satiate. The impossibility
Of Your ways absolve me of my sin-
Guide my steps, closer, closer. Take me home where secrets of the palace belong to me and crystal contemplations lead to virtue. Chaste in union, your coloring-the design,
Which, I have not the
Health for this.