Is there some secret of which I am unaware?
I think I could be saved, if only You could tell me;
Perhaps you could allay the ravings of a deranged boy.
How is it possible? You know what I mean – no –
Don’t play games with me. How does one get up
Every day and face the world with such turmoil
Within his secret places – his soul, his heart –
When they feel as though they are about to break?
How do you smile with such woe being brushed by
The coarse fabric of your veneer; painfully sensitive?
You should know I am an expert on sensitivity;
And also on covering things up, so don’t act as
Though I am naïve and I don’t know what it is I say.
I am done with ambiguous signs, my Lord. Grant me
This wish and I will live in peace. Tell me how to
Deal with the storm which broods within me;
Tell me how to let it out in small and accurate strikes,
Without the risk of being consumed by the fury of
My own emotion. Allow me to face each and every
Day and it’s mundane challenges without resentment,
Without bitterness – help me to cope and to share this
Wisdom which burns inside me, but which is only
Smothered and frustrated by petty concerns. But I have
Worn myself down, and even now, the tempests of my
Ocean are calming. Perhaps it is your wish; your
Irony; your sense of humour or your meaning – that in
Appealing to you, we seem to answer ourselves.
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