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  The Vice

 Forlorn am I for I yielded,

to a foul, loathsome god.  

That lewd tyrant who so wielded,  

an obscenely harsh rod.  

 

Count me less than a shackled slave,  

my will seemed not my own.  

Years I spent as its loyal knave,  

All to reap bad seeds sown.  

 

Bluffed by torture dressed as pleasure,  

the enticements I saw,  

only as beglittered treasure.  

Bewitched, I stood in awe.  

 

In innocence I begged to look,  

being a curious one.  

The bait so taken set the hook,  

of pain disguised as fun.  

 

To green tinder that match was set;  

such fire it did ignite.  

Enkindled, that fervor beget,  

a wanton appetite.

  

My eyes desired more, though really,

no longer curious.  

I myself gave over freely,  

to a life salacious.  

 

My hunger was insatiable,  

my thirst remained unquenched.  

Fulfillment unobtainable,  

became deeply entrenched.  

 

Unremitting in my striving,  

I grievously sinned.  

For all my efforts were nothing,  

than chasing after wind.

  

So all I've done I now disdain,  

in service of this vice.  

The cost demanded by this pain  

brought too much sacrifice.

 

To break these chains I needs must flee,  

looking back never again.  

The Spirit of Love set me free,  

is now my God. Amen.

Sept. 5, 1997

 

 

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