I’m faithless and unashamed For God did not give us grief. Love manipulated our trust So that chance could gamble With the futility of our existence, Ripping the tense velcro bonds Of hearts grown together.
I applaud it’s gamesmanship, For it doesn’t laude it in our faces By any means other than simply Gathering the grim and gaunt In coats of greyed gaberdine. Long coats hanging as if empty, Made black from the heart’s rain.
I am faithless and entirely alone, But still gesticulating to the air: An open chested final demand To give back the gift of grief That greeted me at this graveside. Need I be a god-fearing glossolalist To return this heartbreak?