Do not be sane.
Or give up your thirst.
Do not loosen your grip on the harmony of need and grace.
Or let slip your memory of the low cry when caught between curiosity and desperation.
Do not forget the language of lips to wrist, and teeth to pulse.
Or the spaces between.
Do not ignore the lullaby that leaves you bereft.
Or the cradle used to kindle your fire.
Do not hide from the torrent, the river, the rain.
Or the unwise but sumptuous words that fill you.
—
You will not be cleansed of sin, or forgiven your trespass. You will not be given penance or allowed absolution.
But you will know love (and the glory of life).