And Lo

I am beast, writhing in my cage
feeding off urges
always urging
do this, take this, want this
but alas, these shackles!
For I am enslaved to righteousness
and am victim to what cannot be undone.
Look now, I am in need of water,
but will be the blinded devout
what beauty guides me to drink
of the fresh springs of life in this desert,
what manna can be found on this dry hill.
But what price am I to pay?
Perhaps I am the gatherer of too much,
or partake more than my share,
for though I reach with barren hands,
to drink, to eat,
I am scarred, and my eyes are plucked out.
Now I am the blinded devout.
And though I come to drink of the waters,
beauty holds back my hand,
to say, I do not wish to give you water
so I cannot partake of my fill
Thus, even though I might drink of hands
a cup would give plenty,
give it form and hold much more,
than these broken, bleeding hands can
So I sip and stagger back out into the wastelands
And dream of a day Yahweh,
when you will take me out of this land,
and lay me down in green pastures.
Now the beast has no taste
and though he occasionally rears up in rebellion
the blind cannot follow what they cannot see
and are not often motivated by what they cannot experience.



"And lo, the beast looked upon the face of beauty, and beauty stayed his hand. And from that day forward, he was as one dead."