i met god once again today,
or maybe she met me;
i fell in love the selfsame way
i fell into the sea

and every breath of brine i took
was one forgiven sin,
yet though the angels call me home,
they will not let me in.

yes, i have died a thousand times
of causes great and small,
and on i hope to die again
to prove i’ve lived at all!

for i am a plaything tangled
in the playwright’s wretched plot
and i trust that her great story will
in time, forget me not

for a wretch like me could never see
the yield of what i’ve sown —
so lead me not where tempters lie —
i’ll get there on my own.

this sorry fleshy prison is
the opposite of free —
with stones inside my pockets
let me march into the sea