Christ a poet

So full of myself,
Crawling upon the waters
The darkness envelopes
The pressure develops
I’m born again! Thrice have I received Christ
My soul groans
My body yearns
The photo of the crucifix is on my wall
I look, but no
It’s not in pictures
The life of Christ is not in images
I’ll surely tear off that photo
If after all, I fall victim of lust
And my four-day old Christian life is lost
I grab the chaplet lain on my table
Perhaps, I’ll sin no more
My heart pounds, the rhythm is faster
The life of Christ is not in symbols
Smoking, women, alcohol
I gave up all these three months ago
I gave them all up again
Three days ago
But I still feel them, and want them
In between the darkness and the pressure
I stand, shrouded in sin
Expressing desires, I long let go

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