God, This Moon
Let pass, this agony,
Set prayers for mercy, in these brittle bones,
I see God, in the ethereal lights of the brilliant dawn,
In the broken streets, with the broken men and women,
Broken lovers of the midnight hour: pain,
Caressing like waves against the wooden ship.
God, is the dream, the mirage,
Some ghost in the breaking lights of morning,
I thought God was everything and nothing,
I saw God, in you, oh how it damaged me.
Holy were the neon women, the black-hearted men of the modern city,
Shuffling their names with caustic tongues,
Never knowing what sin was, because lines were black and white,
They slur through static evenings, praying for angels,
And you, master, let me lead you,
Into after hell, the soft lights of darkness,
Pervading street corners, covering buildings in dark shrouds.
I never knew these creatures before, while my fingers held truth,
You were above all else, holy, holy, love in me,
In the cigarette smoke and the whiskey lips,
The vodka slurred words, and the neon signs,
The cityscapes and your fast hands with the brush,
And the colors, and the sin, and the faithless,
And the faithful, and the wanting, and the memories, all holy.
And if God doesn' exist, He sure as hell exudes himself,
His energy, his light, from your skin,
Holy, is you. In the brilliant light of dawn, in the dazzling embers,
God, shining with all the stars, of you, this moon.
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