Sad Sabbath

[Kenj]

SAD SABBATH

 

On Sabbath day I ask my God to heal me and

I hear Him say that I have brought myself to this day

A day that He has made especially for me.

 

On this day I ask my Goddess to forgive me and

She says I must resolve my problems for myself.

She will give me space upon her shelf,

But not in her inferno,

Which is where I wanted to go.

 

I wanted to go there forever,

The measure is the measure of myself, made by myself.

She is wise,

To keep me on her shelf.

 

On Sabbath day I ask my God why this has been my life.

A strong and tiny man, a particle tossed in

Strife on every scale.  Where were my mistakes?  When did I make them?

He says I always knew I made them, and I know the word of God is true.

I made them and I knew it.

A young rat grabbing at cheese and parchment and thinking to get away.

Everything clung to my tail.  I carried the scent.

I got away from nothing.  I am not away now.  I am in the middle. 

Lost in a riddle:  that is no excuse at all.

It’s a riddle I made up myself, to divert and to excuse.

There is no use complaining about a world I made,

A world my God has let me make.

A world made of my mistakes.

 

Escape is for children and rats.

A Man knows his road is run and he doesn’t have to like it.

He has to walk it and if he doesn’t walk it then he walks in shoes

Made out of the flesh of what he loves.

That’s reaching Hell, walking in shoes of flesh and making excuses when

Flesh complains.

Flesh is right, right all the time. God knows that.

God doesn’t give you the magic or the wisdom, just the truth.

God doesn’t save you or the people you use.

The Goddess doesn’t stroke you and pretend.

She’s got no use for you when you use her.

She doesn’t get wet for your doom.

Go, she says, and pass out in your room.