If Dawkins were right
And faith is a farce
A human construct
If Nietzsche were right
And man has outgrown God
As a child outgrows his toy
Then all this
Hemming
And
Hawing
Would have all been in vain
All ****** folly
And this time could have been put
To better use
Courting you
And we would be
So very happy
Together.

~

Yet if the scriptures were right
And we are spirits made flesh
Having appointments with divine destiny
Then you are but a thought
A temptation
Testing me
An exaltation against His knowledge.
A boon you are not
But a bane.
And I am to nail it all
To the foot of the cross
Just as how I am to nail my flesh,
My sinful nature,
To this altar.
And in Him
Shall I find all-transcendent peace.
For putting the Kingdom first,
Shall I receive His best.

~

That is,
If.

You once called me your luna
Your moon
Lighting your path in the dark
Always hovering
Watching over you

You are my sol
My sun
Bathing my meadows and oceans
In the radiance of your light
Raining nourishment and life

All I have now are the lonely stars
Consoling me with their cold stares
A bitter substitute for your smile
As I await the breaking of dawn

How I loathe these vigils
Whose arduousness I forget
The moment our eyes and lips meet
And light floods my solitude anew.

A year ago
You told me to stop being so picky
Sat me down
And after a few bottles
Called me a miserable ****
For having such high standards

A year ago
You asked me
What good is intellectual connection
In the face of desolation

A year ago
You reprimanded me
Telling me how I was getting old
And how I'll die alone
If I don't compromise

A year ago
I laughed and shrugged
Lit another stick
And grinned
Knowing what was good for me
And how your advice
Was anything but

And now
How I laugh and grin all the more
Vindicated
Justified
At having listened to my heart
Instead of your misguided words
The lot of you.

Had I paid you heed
I would never have found my geisha
Instead trapped in the
Clutches of some strumpet
Drowning in the sediment
Of awkward smirks
And silent drives
Singing desperate songs

Never tell me to settle again
If there's any settling that I'll be doing
It's settling down
With my geisha.

If it comes down
To choosing
Between me and your dreams,
I told her
Leave me
And pursue your dreams.*

She fell silent
Unsure how to proceed
If she can truly say
That she would pick a man
Over the sky

Unaware
That I would rather
See the familiar face
Of desolation once more
Than cage her
In the mundane

(Oh but how I hope
For her to bring me
As she flies south for the winter)