O, this human menagerie - half-beast
half-saint - born to a Janus-faced decree: ascend, but crawl
fashioned from dust, yet cursed to paint
our sins in gold leaf, then repent the fall
what divine jester split the atom of the soul?
left reason warring passion, self a fractured whole
behold the Majesty: a capricious queen
who seeds the fault, then feigns to grant reprieve
nature, that harlot, plucks her own wings clean,
gifts us thirst, then damns the lips that drink
believe no creator’s hands are clean, they carve the wound
then crown themselves the surgeon of the bruise
tyrant and martyr, double-headed creed
you ban the wine, then bid us nurse the thirst
each virtue’s but a masquerade of need
the easy path? A labyrinth reversed
if heaven’s gate swung wide, would we still bleed?
no gods crave the scent of smoke, the sinner’s plead
we, high priests of hollowed words, recite
from gilded scrolls, chant psalms in practiced cries
our altars groan with feasts of sacrificed light,
yet in the shadowed heart, a rougher truth lies:
the god we forge in secret, fanged, unshriven
bares less love than Loki, more wrath than leviathan