Psalms of Fire
Words are my intellectʼs fire,
I set them ablaze in order to narrate Your Existence.
Yet these words often come at a severe price,
The expense ultimately leading to ruin,
To desolation, to ash,
For what man can endure the naked truth of his own futility?
These words have become the fire
That consumes my very life,
I pay the price with the flames of loneliness
And with the torches of tears,
I pay the price of constantly having to look for you,
Constantly having to describe you,
Guilty of arson, I continually promulgate your gloryʼs blaze.
How vain I must be to think that I can even begin to describe
What is ultimate, and ultimately beyond description,
I pay the price of this vanity
With the agony of vanityʼs own fire,
Iʼve tried to extinguish this fire of words,
Only to find out that these words are all that I am,
They are my very soul, and that my soul is itself the fire!
Iʼve tried to extinguish them with meditation,
With drunkenness and sleep,
With love for woman, with love for gold,
But when the smoke had cleared
They always came back to haunt me,
Their fire has awaited me at the end of every road.
These words succeed where all else has failed,
Even in their utter failure, even in their ash,
For I lay my words at the altar of your feet,
Where they lie burning in homage to you,
The night is long,
I have but one urge, one task, one hope,
Ignited by the fire of this longing; of these words,
The blackened night becomes like the blinding sun,
If only for a scintilla,
If only for the twinkling of an eye,
This soul is the fire!
These words – the light of the blaze!
And only the mercy of Love
Can quench this fireʼs pain.