I stray, perhaps too much, from my routine,
writing this poem day in and day out,
zooming in, a time, on a different scene—
physics questions that give me a shout
when lying in bed, unable to sleep.
Why do I, hence, refuse to understand—
rehashing what’s answered with a peep,
spending the hours i would command?
If science, even for a moment, should
contradict my faith, then it means nothing,
and, because of that, does me no good,
at least when it comes to loving my King,
being, instead of achieving, happiness.
So I question miles of circular thought,
leaving me and my emotions in duress,
when I might translate the wit i bought
with a mental illness. It’s more than that,
since, when i translate, i speak words of
kindness, which bring me closer, at
my best, to family, friends, and their love.
What’s this rabbit hole? Math i either do
not need or can’t understand, putting me
to an end—the anxiety that i accrue,
eating me up, misplacing His priority—
securing peace at the end of the day,
having gone the extra mile. Why should
I squirm in my seat, unable to stay
the course—and do as anybody would,
seeking out, and embracing, diversion.
Let me, at night, find entertainment—
escape from the chaos of creation,
making something of the love i spent
when i sought to express what i found,
hiding from me, at the bottom of the pit
that divides birth from rebirth, sound
hearts and minds from the love we acquit
when we cut our losses. I rise up from
said pit, but, to date, minus the confidence
that i need in order to embrace some,
and let the rest, for me, be driven hence,
those, i think, that do not love me. I bleed,
don’t i, when I am pricked, and forced to
abandon the orgy, lo, that I concede
when, for His love, i take what i rue
and turn it into something providential?
I stand on the shoulders of giants,
bearing the testimony that I counsel
when, like a jaguar that his precious hunts,
i turn to the ways of the world. Go seek
the truth, and so I do, but if i should
ask, between the bars, to know the meek,
and set aside the science that would
make me unhappy, then, for love, i do
what’s right—and, with that in mind, i go
throughout the night in defense of true
things, and the meaning they bestow.