Psalm of Oblivion

Do I deserve to be
all that I am today?
Do I deserve to see
all that could another day?
Look at me, crude as I am
foul wretched,
whore-piece of man
a time forgotten illness
sent to plague the world
dead and gone
should I be...

So does my guilt relay to me.
My free life is not so free
when I look down
to see my shackles
and yet i prance around
my dungeon-room
pretending that everything
will be alright.
Already I hear the bell
knelling my doomsday parade,
that march up the stairs
to my eternal gallows.
How dare I think that even I,
cruel lowly man, mortal doomed,
could ever live my own life
and spit in the face of God.
My soul sees him approaching,
ax in hand, hooded head
no glint in his eyes.
My body leaps for joy,
fool as I may be,
thinking that this-
this man of black-
is my salvation.
I am but a slave to tomfoolery
and human folly
and selfish pride
and ignorant arrogance.
Take me now then
and cut off my head
leave me for dead
for already before the deed be done
there is no life from within-
no erstwhile fire
that burneth low
no shining embers
to tell of a soul
that lingers there within-
within a crypt that long
has forgotten of its former self
of what i could have been
if I had not been.
How can I escape the dreadful curse
that is myself?
i know where the answer is-
I look out to you and yet
sometimes my heart pulls me back to the hands
of the hooded man.
too oft, I go willingly myself,
oblivious to the hanging rope
oblvious to my hellwrought world.
and often times I go knowing full well
the doom that lies before
and yet i still would rather
display the awesome power
of human freedom
and be the ultimate defiant one
the one who would dare
to even stand to the face of God
and laugh.
Is this something to be praised
this ultimate heroism,
daring the undarable power that is?
Or is this more correctly
the ultimate folly
the truest form of self abasement.
I know of one who,
if he coould ever tell the truth,
would honor me in saying
that to be as such the way I am,
would bring about the same doom
that himself bears
doomed to a thousand years,
doomed to walk the world,
doomed to the fiery lake.
That is my lot and with it do I cast myself-
cast myself into the flames,
hopeless abandon.
Abandon? Aba-don?Abbaddon?
Who is this creature within?
This cannot be
i'm just a mockery?
There's a soul inside that truly is
myself, the me inside.
Let me out-
so I may seek the hand the pulls at me
pulling me free of the curse.
I can never graps it, for ever out of reach
though it may be
my power fails me and I turn back once more
refusing the salvation.
Foolish as I am,
the hand still turns be bout
and holds me fast
despite all my grudging and looking back.
Oh blessed hand, be forecful to me
and teach me through sheer power
to no longer wander off
and galivante through life.
I am my wit's ends
and the end of my rope,
a rope ending curiously
in the shape of a noose.
A splendid tie that would make
for one such as me,
but my spots been taken
and there I stand
to stare at the mystery.
Oh hand divine!
Twice now have you rescued me.
I am in your debt,
and am bought to you
beholden to Him.
Release me not,
I fear my doom,
though you had taken it upon yourself.
Hold me.
Love me...
do not let me be...
all that I am today.
Let me become
all that was supposed to be
ere the worlds were made.