Rebel's Freedom

O Lord, the voice of Your Spirit comes to me,
Making itself heard above and through the meaninglessness.
Your Earth clutches at my feet as I walk,
And the hands of your servants are upon my garments.
But I, fool that I am, pay no heed,
Trading happiness for a rebel's freedom.
I press onward on my own path,
Turning always from side to side,
Lest the fool see the face of his folly;
Until at last I reach that final blind alley.
Then at last will I be forced to look myself in the face.
O Lord, will it be a sadder face than the one which I now wear?
-- November 4, 1988 copyright © 1988, 2005

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