2.12.2022

the path isn't drawn using dogma's map

In the life before this one 
and the one before that, 
in all of the lives as far back 
as the psychic could see, 
I'd been a priest, a cleric, 
a monk, an ascetic. 
Starvation, deprivation, 
denial had moved me 
toward an ecstasy 
always unfulfilled. 
This time, she said, 
it isn't so easy. 
The path isn't drawn 
using dogma's map, 
and I still carry in me 
the ghosts of my past, 
all of those men who 
wanted to be free 
of their bodies. 
This time, she said, 
I need my appetites. 
I need desire and satiation. 
I need to feast at the table 
from which I'd always 
so expertly run. If not, 
I'd never complete 
the journey my soul 
had started all 
those lifetimes ago. 
 

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