My God, My King
I cannot attain so lofty a place as expectation;
Like the end of Escher’s stairs it waits always out of reach.
Yet that this end of me you still beseech,
Reveals such a cruel god as to demand perfection.
This high identity with my small stature creates a tension
That I am too weak to endure. So I must breach
That fortress where you daily give your pestilent speech,
And dethrone you, the king that made my life a prison.
I threw the doors open, stormed into that place,
Sought out the throne of the one that told me who to be,
Threw the sword into the heart of my master,
And breathed my last breath as death overcame me.
Then in walked the one with life in his face;
The new king took his throne and peace came much faster.
Like the end of Escher’s stairs it waits always out of reach.
Yet that this end of me you still beseech,
Reveals such a cruel god as to demand perfection.
This high identity with my small stature creates a tension
That I am too weak to endure. So I must breach
That fortress where you daily give your pestilent speech,
And dethrone you, the king that made my life a prison.
I threw the doors open, stormed into that place,
Sought out the throne of the one that told me who to be,
Threw the sword into the heart of my master,
And breathed my last breath as death overcame me.
Then in walked the one with life in his face;
The new king took his throne and peace came much faster.