Priestly Sin

I’m sorry dearest friend,

But your will I cannot follow.

A priestly path you intend,

Like that saint from Nazareth, amen

But to me it all seems hollow.

-

I ask you again,

What did that nihilist begin?

Be it more than two thousand years of sorrow?

But just like him, you also bend,

Must I remind you of his end?

For he was dead long before those nails pierced skin and marrow!

-

Yet still you descend down this mountain path again,

With a message of peace and love,

In hopes that resentful herd will follow.

Bestowing your virtue to them once more - Oh!

Will this silly game ever end?

Or must I watch them feed again tomorrow?

-

Alas!

You cannot decide – a slow suicide,

So be it love of Self or others?

Of compassion you since have bled,

So your Self wishes to pretend,

“For I’ll love all again come the morrow!”

-

But from mine eyes you cannot hide,

Your weakness won’t subside,

And for that I cannot bare this hand any longer!

-

And should your heart feel empty,

And your will wish to climb,

My strength again you will not find,

Towards this senseless idealism,

It cannot linger.

-

And when your tears start to flow,

Wandering lost consoling the low,

Know I weep for you too,

I dare not hold it in either!

-

But these thousand truths you’ve since soaked in,

Like a snake that cannot shed her own skin,

You’ve fallen ill to a fate far worse than sin.

Oh how I’d wished we could ascend together!

-

And for trying since now,

A show of water pours out – Alas!

Why can’t we go up together?

But still am I, so full of noble pride –

“I do not need your hand either!”

Feedback:

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