God, do you forgive even the heart of a Poet in all of its eccentricities & excess?
Do you forgive even the mind of a Poet despite all of the endless torment & internal questioning in which they often luxuriate?
Do you forgive them their covetousness of the black of night, preferring as they often do, to roam the bleakest, most desolate landscape of the Peripatetic, as they tending each succint & absolute answer granted by Thee, with yet another slew of questioning?
Do you forgive the Poet their inherently ravenous inquisitiveness, their restless heart, and their endless, ruminant mind?
Are these sins for which they should continually repent, or perhaps virtues in disguise which they should deem just as sacred as Thee & thus honour so?
Yet most of all God, do You forgive the Poet, the Artiste & the natural-born Philosophers their high-mindedness, hyper-sensitivity & self-righteousness?
Do You forgive them their bristle & woe at every low-minded offense to their high-minded Ideals?
Do You, Oh Lord, forgive them their preference for Lamentation & Complexity over that of Sanguinity & Simplicity?
Do You forgive us also, most of all, our transgressions of Apodicticism & Agnostic preference, as we seek to honour Thee more with what we do not know than what we can have faith in?
Do You forgive the The Deep One their complacency in an acute sense of Solipsism & for how they remain ever convicted, often over that of Thine holy Doctrine, that there must for this human condition, never be fully embraced, a cure, transcendence, absolution?
For, Oh Lord, it is in our inconsistency, that we do most humbly bow before Thee.
