A Borrowed Life

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Before I knew of choice 
My God was still. 

This empty cup 
Far too fool to fill.

My eyes untrained to see, 
Were married to belief.

My heart sought other than itself 
To find relief.

This chambered heart so music deaf 
To never understand 

The meaning of the silence 
In a breath.

Singular and insulated 
Dreams untouched by hand.

Graceful dripping  gossamer’s 
Whose icy touch I fought.

Embattled black or ghostly white
Forever lay uncaught 

My eyes still feel 
The curving of the light. 

My brain still bends 
In forming each new thought.

So let me not disturb 
My Gods’ diminished sight,

Or curse this borrowed life 
I wish I’d bought.

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