God, what am I
But a pale copy
Of the true ascetics?
A lesson in humility.
Only under such heat, such thirst,
Does the soul realise,
The body is just a mirage.
Forgive me, God, for
Crossing the dates on the calendar,
Numbering thirty days of abstinence;
For observing how much
Temptation surrounds me.
The tap's mouth glistens, even though
It is only my eye that has polished it.
And it is only my longing
That saturates the colour of apples,
That turns a passing scent into form,
Like breaths sculpted in cold weather.
Feasting before dawn,
Each sunrise I fade,
Reduced to a mouth, source
Of desire, of original sin.
And at each sundown, a glassful of water
Travels down my gullet
And turns me solid again.
God, when you breathed life
Into the first man, was that
What answered his craving?
Or did he know then, that
As you fed him, you also gave him
Hunger, a crumb of that world
That you will cast him down into?
