On the shore

My scars are scales over my eyes
never again will I perceive love
My wounds remain as long as my eyes are wide
not blood, but tears glisten in the day's light

It is lonliness to which I have condemned my soul
It is regret with which I have bound and anchored my heart

With searing remorse for my mind's travels
With quiet anger for my afflictions of thought
With impassioned fury at my reason and logic
I look to darkness and silence for peace and relief

On the cold, distant shores of my heart, on which I have exiled my soul
I huddle and grasp at any warmth of self that remains
Where once my reflection smiled and glistened
in the calm waters in which I looked
Now a turbulent ripple distorts my face
and may the waters grow more stormy still.
May fire dry them up with complete power
May fire consume my soul -and surely it will

Should the Almighty have His perfect and gracious way
my flesh would char and boil and peel and crackle in the fifth circle of Hell
For my woes, my tears, my sorrows and angers belong with me there,
not to be whispered into his paternal ear

May Heaven be joyous and the lowest of the Saints be forever proud of their stature.
May the toasting glasses of the saved and the wonderful hasten to hide the anguished cries of the damned and broken
May the saints share in their cheerful chorus as the Angel of Mourning casts her song over the end days of earth.
May the deserving meek be ushered through the gates, as the guilty weak are swept into the darkness by the sharp bristles of God's judgement.

For my afflictions, I may burn
For my weakness, I may be beaten lower still
For my tears, I may be given cause to weep and mourn
For my anger, I may be given no excuse or grace
For the cold shudder that jars my bones and quivers my lip as the
vast lonliness of this canyon of existence descends upon my soul,
I am given no comfort or remedy.

I can only, helplessly, be.