I cannot imagine a world where there is no light
and moments pass too quick to gather.
Spinning in the churning waves are vapid hopes that break apart like sea foam.

Do I have the faith?
Will the spirit ever reside in my soiled temple?
Might I pass the test of life and slumber no longer in the dark waters that baptize me?

Even as I fall through this lonely life and words fill me up,
I cannot force these questions out. It was a love that did this to me.

I learned of this new love through scripture and it is that love that anchors these questions in my frightful reality.

I cannot rationalize religion into obscurity nor might I peace myself together after it has been exorcised.

So death is my river of cleansing and sin the ink that make the waters black.

I wept so often as a child and watched my tears add to the waters that would come to sweep me into the deep.
Slowly I came to realize even at such a young age that I would be the one to condemn myself.
One moment will come to decide my world, my faith, and my life.

I would wield the scythe against myself.

My words will strike out my soul and all that is of me will wither and perish.
My words will scatter and swallow me into a pit from which I cannot rise.

So much I wept for myself.
I wept, prayed, and begged nightly for a death of white that would keep me from my condemnation.

I dreamt of death as my one true salvation. I dream of death still.

This is what I learned lay beneath every sermon, each Sunday I fought to hear the word.

I smuggled this one true glory home and buried it in the fertile earth of my twisting heart.

Salvation is in abandonment.
Truth lies in torments inconceivable.

To know God’s unfathomable love, it is my privilege to suffer.
To know God’s unquestionable mercy, it is my privilege to die.