Hobnob with the hobgoblins And
gather with the ghouls! Let the monsters in your
heart Loose to run with wolves! Open up your happy
Hell, Window on your weir! Even as you know quite
well Each demon from your dungeon will Not ravish
long your fear.
THE LORD HAS BEEN MERCIFUL TO
ME
The Lord has been merciful to me. For
I have sinned all the sins of this place That preys on
weakness and traffics in sin, And He has not turned away
from me.
For I have sinned all the sins of this
place, And sinned and repented and sinned again, And
He has not turned away from me, Nor blinded my eyes, nor
hardened my heart.
And sinned and repented and
sinned again, And He has remained even here, in this
place, Nor blinded my eyes, nor hardened my heart, Nor
left me alone. Praise the Lord!
And He has
remained even here, in this place, That preys on weakness
and traffics in sin, Nor left me alone. Praise the
Lord! The Lord has been merciful to me.
I
KNOW WELL I HAVE NO RIGHT TO LOVE YOU
I know well
I have no right to love you: I gave you up, and now you're
with my friend. But I can't stop myself from thinking of
you, Even though that's not what I intend. I want
you but I also don't want you To hurt my friend by breaking
up with her. So things go wrong no matter what you do; I
long for what I don't want to occur. Ah, me! I'm in a soap
and can't get out! Help me if you can by being kind. I
tell you this to banish any doubt That I'll be waiting, if
you're so inclined. But please, please, if my friend still
has your love, Forget completely what I've spoken
of.
HOW MIGHT A SPIRIT SETTLE IN THE
WIND
How might a spirit settle in the
wind? After death, how might a soul find peace? Love
lasts long after lips and laughter cease, Leaving only
memories behind. Out of longings, one might linen
spin, Weaving well the welkin edged with fleece. Each
spirit must from wandering seek release, Else ever through
the weary midnights wend, Not resting till love's angels
dark descend.
THERE'S BEAUTY IN THE BAREST BREATH
OF SUNSHINE
There's beauty in the barest breath of
sunshine, Wasted on all but those who know despair. Each
wound turns passions just a bit more grey, Not adding new
nor taking old away, Trading joy for something far less
fair, Yet turning grace to something far more
fine.
For such, there is a winding of the
way In which a bleakness, soon become a sign, Vividly
undoes the dying day, Evoking longings one can hardly
bear.
WHEN LOVE IS AN AFFLICTION
When
love is an affliction, There's not much one can
do. Despite the way you've treated me, I'm still in
love with you.
I am the wave and you the
rock Against which I must break: Again, again the
crushing jolt, The pain I can't forsake;
Again,
again the long retreat To safety, far from shore, And
then again, I don't know why, The long trip back for
more.
Perhaps it is nostalgia for A long
uncertain glow, Or just some hope so beautiful I
cannot let it go.
Perhaps it is the need to
try For those who must depend On who we are and
what we do, For whom this should not end.
What
evil makes you hurt me so, What defect of the heart? What
sense there is no greater whole Of which you are a
part?
What lonely choice that only you Be
served by what you choose? What hard, hard fear of losing
what It is a gift to lose?
I dream
sometimes my waiting love Has made you turn again. But
you care only for yourself, And I must love in
vain.
WHEN GOD'S AS REAL AS SANTA
CLAUS
When God's as real as Santa Claus, And
temples are works of art; When the Bible's living
literature, And the Universe has no heart: One
feels grateful, But to whom?
When the
ritual vestments of faith Are seen only from outside; And
the strength to live in the void Becomes a matter of
pride: One feels grateful, But to whom?
When
life seems bursting with beauty, But everything's
accidental; When calling the noumenal "Thou" Seems
impossibly sentimental: One feels grateful, But to
whom?
When death is an absolute end,
And pain lets one barely get
by; Prayer's a harmless delusion And the solace of
heaven a lie: One still feels grateful, But to
whom?
This human urge to say thank
you, Unavoidably orphic, Requires, just for a
moment, A Creator, anthropomorphic: So that one can
feel grateful To Whom.
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