Where Are We Going, And Why Am I In This Handbasket?

And if you thought I was going to hell for all my oral fixations and lusting after my oblivious professors--ha! How little you know. I have a much longer list of why I'll be going to hell, baby. Here's one of them.



Lucifer

I sit in church and identify
With that most troublesome of angels,
One whose aspect is so much fairer than mine.
He can never return.
He is forever damned! the brimstone preacher
Pounds against the pulpit,
And I feel every bit as rebellious as the First Rebel.
Why would an angel be less deserving of God’s grace than I?
Is he not too one of His creations?

I admire his independence for something
Different, something true to himself.
I mourn with him his separation from all that
Is familiar to gain Freedom;
I understand that with every thing that is gained,
Something is lost.
With knowledge, innocence;
With freedom, a Father’s love.

I too wonder what life would have been like,
How it would feel to be in my Father’s
Good graces and loving smile.
I wonder why we are not good enough as we are.
Conformity is the real hell.
If our fathers say love is unconditional,
That we are loved even when don’t deserve it,
Why have I been turned away?
Why does the Fallen Angel still sit outside of Heaven’s Gates?

I pray for Lucifer, and for me,
For if I don’t, no one will. When I pray for him,
I pray for myself. I will that one day our darkness
Will once again find the Light welcomes us
And we can once again love all our parts without shame,
Our darkness, our light, and all shades between.