The Rage
I come before you, humble and contrite,
deaf from your thunder, sightless from your bolts.
You rage, but frankly it’s a downright
anachronistic in this day - the volts,
the decibels, all of these fireworks
are for a newbie, not for someone who
once looked inside your mystery black box
and made a plain and obvious breakthrough:
we do not differ, you and me. The same
blue eyes, short beard, marital status, age,
surname, forename and patronymic name
and tendency to fall into a rage
about nothing… So, please, abate
your fury, put aside your thundering rod,
absolve me of my sins, elucidate
your plan about me and date me, God.
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