My god, beauty

My god, I believed you, believed in a happy ending for this fairytale.

I swallowed bait and breadcrumb, down a path foreshadowed in shadows, and breadcrumbs.

I took upon myself, in your name, anger, and judgment bathed in blood and shame, and I ate.

Jesus, looking from the soiled mirror back, dripping with hate, wet with sin, Jesus, what have I become.


What have I done, to perfections of my “self,” to beautiful pieces, awaiting care, beautiful pieces?

Broken they lay, far beyond my repair, awaiting their mirror, without smear, Jesus.

Christ what a blessing, a new mirror complete, confident, and unaware of your treachery.

So, I worship (worshiping logic, reason, compassion, empathy) grateful for the path, the journey.


My god, I pray to myself, for action in obtaining that which is good and blossoms within my heart.

Blossoms so they might see the beauty, a beauty they can have, free of tether, free to fly.

And I question myself each time I taste our past, bitter restraint.

Our ties, my bondage, am I worthy, I question.

In the mirror the only soul worthy, the only soul capable of beauty.

And so! I clean the mirror.

My god, beauty