Miracle To Me
Posted: Tue Apr 27, 2004 11:48 pm
Miracle To Me
Like some missionary of half understood disaster,
I swore that there was knowledge to be found in the night.
Content in my slavery, I served a multitude of masters
who hypnotized me with decadent and dangerous delights.
And despite every inkling of a final reckoning in the sky
I find that I have endured every hysterical, reckless plea.
A new day arises, but I would be crazy if I were to lie
and say the fact I have survived is no miracle to me.
Perhaps I am meant for something more than poison and abuse,
though for many years I pursued those deranged ends.
I swore the best of intentions while reciting a litany of excuses
that I believed could suffice in place of making amends.
I professed a talent for empathy and a willingness of the heart,
but if anyone came too close I would panic and flee.
When I consider all the sacrifices I made in the name of art
the fact that I have survived remains a miracle to me.
But those sacrifices were complicated evasions feeding desires
that I should have neglected, renounced, or even ignored.
For too long I posed as the helpless medium who forever aspires
to be free of the slavery of voices whose demands I could not afford.
I am now aware of my many natures and how they have betrayed
those who fought so hard to give me a chance to be free.
When I consider the years past and those debts never repaid,
the fact that I have survived remains a miracle to me.
Like some missionary of half understood disaster,
I swore that there was knowledge to be found in the night.
Content in my slavery, I served a multitude of masters
who hypnotized me with decadent and dangerous delights.
And despite every inkling of a final reckoning in the sky
I find that I have endured every hysterical, reckless plea.
A new day arises, but I would be crazy if I were to lie
and say the fact I have survived is no miracle to me.
Perhaps I am meant for something more than poison and abuse,
though for many years I pursued those deranged ends.
I swore the best of intentions while reciting a litany of excuses
that I believed could suffice in place of making amends.
I professed a talent for empathy and a willingness of the heart,
but if anyone came too close I would panic and flee.
When I consider all the sacrifices I made in the name of art
the fact that I have survived remains a miracle to me.
But those sacrifices were complicated evasions feeding desires
that I should have neglected, renounced, or even ignored.
For too long I posed as the helpless medium who forever aspires
to be free of the slavery of voices whose demands I could not afford.
I am now aware of my many natures and how they have betrayed
those who fought so hard to give me a chance to be free.
When I consider the years past and those debts never repaid,
the fact that I have survived remains a miracle to me.