Lord, please take this noise out of my head.
Excise these vacillating frequencies of doubt and belief.
Smooth the febrile static of these aspirations to unrealisable righteousness.
Sate this raging hunger for the invisible heroin of ever more knowledge.
Stifle this clamorous fear that I will never read enough,
To make the sparking network of connections,
That will complete the synthetic omega of my existence.
Lord, let the answer be zero.
Let this endless, shattering becoming be finally accomplished.
Let me return to the place of origin and know it for the first time.
Cut into my flesh with visceral emblems of proof,
That nothing really does just equal nothing,
And that absence is the only truth.
Lord, let me sleep the sleep of inward muteness,
Having thrown myself down onto stony ground, exhausted.
Let me awake in a circle of birdless, windless silence,
An idiot son of drunken fathers, weeping mothers.
A happy fool, stripped of all commitment to the quest for you.
His redemption a done deal, between neutral third parties.
To wake each day and resume the battle,
To love the unloveable, to withold just rancour,
To sustain hope for the vanishingly probable,
And hold a clear, steady image of the wildly unimaginable,
Has left me husked and emptied of spiritual vigour.
Lord, just for tonight,
Let me love the World effortlessly or not at all.
Copyright © John Ferngrove 2009