Curriculum Vitae

Some watching my ease Of execution of the self The latent anxiety unteased Writes me off in simplicity. Some denuding me of honor's wealth Wait in turmoil For a scab to fall and unveil its pus And if I do not flinch for pain Writes coward beside my name Some deck out in borrowed jewels Could not stop me looking at the stars They heard only my polite conversation Saw my faith And did not understand the transformation of desire The restructured purpose of the heart The difference in whose I am They frightened ran Frantic to recompose themselves in fear They judged me like the world again But O how deep the flow Of divine grace That such may come and find nothing in me. I am a man of firm convictions I know the way all things should go Before they go I watch the frightened blunder Inventing old salvation in new fora I do not yield to that Peace is a vision of the broken self The spontaneous abolition of lies Do not give the heart too much grandeur It blinds the vision to the soul Reeks havoc of self interpretation For before the strong delusion Comes the lie Do you not remember how impolite you were How disrespectful How nasty the tone of argument and action And how he opened not his mouth Waiting for you to come to confession That gives a man a sense of justice To execute judgment without compassion And yet, great Christ, you wait for repentance. You have your Barabbas And yet you have no peace How can right disturb the heart at rest We weave a tangled mess In a world of pride, but patience is a a door I left it open Without pain For what you have become, what you manifest I would not cry, could not cry for cess Barabbas means himself well But his history is a figment, his tale a lie And then again What power could sin have over sin Poor, weak, wretched, vain How your pretext falls like dusk How bewildering the edge of night If you see me again Please note that I am the same And through my door Comes those who have forgotten pain For I built it so To admit the naked form alone Be mortified at my door You cannot come until you are purged It is your life I have neither haste nor urge Only you can make right I can only hold the light For under my cosy exterior of ease You will find again Just what you see outside.