8
To see the world as my true love sees it,
I shift from my extra-dimensional
coordinates to his, and take respite.
I stay until his view’s a mouthful,
and I long for the life that’s built for me,
specifically, by my ancestors.
My kin and kind will forever be
the microphone that He considers
when He takes my world and lights it up,
amplifying my voice, and state of mind.
My view, for me, is wine in my cup,
a bottle, for me, that i always find
filled to the brim. My lover’s view, like
an instrument, makes a wondrous sound,
and, like giving birth to a wondrous tyke,
I see a future that is most profound,
but like traveling to a majestic land,
and dreaming of a different life,
I choose, in the end, what I remand,
the world that made me the perfect wife,
the complement that he desires.
So I look at the world through his eyes,
to understand what he requires,
a union, for us, that never relies
on too much of a good thing. In this way,
I take stock of my worth, and what he
sees in me. After this pleasant delay,
I welcome back what’s familiar to me,
and repair. My world spreads its wings,
and i fly, onward, to an event,
that means, for the both of us, many things,
like, for example, a message spent
on Him, to bring us closer to His lee,
and His mastery of the universe.
I have no fear, now, that I’ll always be
the antidote to the devil’s curse—
a life of heavenly suffering.
Here’s the wherewithal to take what’s bad,
and serve it like we serve our King,
until their pity for us makes them sad
enough to punish them—those that, they
assume, suck the life out of Him, and cheat
their sphere. How, i ask, do i take what’s gay,
and yet somehow bad, and make it complete?
How do i return it to nothingness?
He, like me, lives for the lightness of
being, but his reasons put me in duress,
compounding my suffering, not His love,
for he seeks, in the end, personal gain,
a short term fix for His suffering.
So i feel, for him, heavenly pain,
since he looks up to me and our King.
But his chief end is to put others down,
so that we, as friends, might rule in tandem.
Then, because of that, he would take the town
by storm, whereas i, in thinking of them,
secure quality time with my family.
So when the bad in the world comes to
a head, how do i spot the enemy,
when he does for himself what i do
for all of us? If he’s happy, going
to his end, and he has his followers—
those that, perhaps, on me would ring,
or be, in the end, what he angers,
then i cannot know anything for sure.
If i am not drawn to him as he’s to me,
or i don’t like his book, then, as it were,
the shortsighted one could be me, truly,
blinded by human frailty—a chain of
thought that clings to an understanding
that can’t be found, that shirks His love,
that serves a temporary something—
hellbent, not on truth, but satisfaction,
until, to my shame, I see, and repent.
So i can’t say, with determination,
that this person will always be spent
on himself, and himself alone. I must
make the extra effort, then, to be kind
to that which, ultimately, i trust,
may be good, instead of time out of mind.
I take my suffering, transforming it—
that way i might draw closer to Him,
and the promise of salvation. I acquit,
then, those that dump what’s grim,
such as the heaviness of the crown.
The idol that, in haste, i’d take—
if he made me high on his renown,
is the shade that he would make
to conjure what steals from the poor,
driving up the price of gin. His release,
when it happens, will, unlock a door
that leads to disappointment and peace,
considering how he necessarily
fooled us all. So the devil’s cycle—
and the universal chores that we
abide, at least, that is, until He’s full,
having judged between the good and bad,
come to an airy end, and we start
afresh, both rejuvenated and glad,
until the bad, again, enters our heart,
and, little by little, populates
the world. But I, so far, am not afraid,
since, to date, i atone for what grates
upon our nerves, and the bill is paid,
leaving us prepared, yet again,
for His coming. I shan’t feel any shame,
then, when I arrive a man among men,
leaving no one, as it goes, to the blame.