You, an uninterrupted phenomena,
You, who brings the dawn like a fisherman who drags the sun from the dark depths of night.
Who am I to question you?
Who am I to fight you?
What purpose does it serve for me to rally against my own nature as flesh?
Why should I accept death instead of your grace, which renders me
inept to deny you any longer.

Of all mortal men, why must I feed you my name like one carving a headstone?
Surely there are others you could ask, ones who have not felt your wicked, burning edge.
Are there none who haven’t been seared by the light that pours from you?
Or perhaps the question is,
Are there too many?

Why me, of all things, to be caught within your sights.
Why me, of all beings, am I burned asunder by your gaze.

You, Love, the greatest giver and tormentor,
You, Love, the only reprieve from this illusion of choice
You, Love, the ode we sing to ourselves when we only yearn
to re-enter the void
and finally escape your dizzying call.

Love,
You have scorned me,
You have brutalized me,
You have made me destroy myself again and again
like a castle of sand whose base has begun to erode.

But, in the end,
I know that you are the only thing
that ever really mattered

Love,
Who am I to resist…
You.