A sinner's regret

was I yours?

So then why the hellish stain

Of mistakes committed when your dove-like spirit

resided in my heart
Was I truly yours?

Me? With irrevocable stains & dents in my soul,

I spoke lofty nonsense  through poetry

But down there,

Where my soul wrestled with its own hypocrisy

I was a convicted sinner,
 preaching through a dirty tongue
Ofcourse kept the pulpit credible

unqualified to sing you hosanna,
But the churchmanship cleaned out the filthy canvass.

I was not yours.

I am saying this vessel was yours, yes,
 but I was a rogue nomadic

In love with my own savagery.

Loved too much the glory of my own exploits:

E.g. the power of my character vindicated me into heaven  

I was able & worthy to push myself into this celestial thing,

And yet you 'd say, I needed ‘’thee’’ to ask even for an invitation.

I needed the Gethsemane complex.

I needed my yoke imputed on Golgotha,

I needed a measly manger,
To stand un-litigated by  a cosmic court ...

On that basis I declined a gracious offer- for the ultimate credit would not be my own,
for i would not be at the center of my salvation,
but a peasant carpenter from Nazareth, would take all that credit, all that glory...
Never!

... laid myself in the real dust and so dallied blissfully into Lucifer's den.

My pride too pompous to need a homeless king,
A carpenter from Nazareth. 

I could not  have him, 
I did not want him,
i did not love him,

And so let my soul enter  this restlessness
my teeth gnash in peace.
In peace mystical.