How Cumbersome The Flesh

O Master of my soul, my faith is crucified on
Faulty logic. Reason contaminates my whole existence.
I am a Karma-laden beast of burden.
Lured by the powerful smell of money I have become a slave to salary,
Erecting futile frontiers on unmapped Space,
Stumbling over clusters of emotion and bundles of desire.
Like leaves chasing the wind, I try to capture elusive joys.
The electric serpent of my being lies dormant in
Petrified coils, restlessly shimmering – barring
Insight into my secret depths, while bliss lies
Incubating in the Void.
With fear do I hear the rolling thunder calling out
Your Holy Name, and through my unbreathable
Sobs, I hear you calling me, in low-pitched echoes,
Soundlessly calling, calling
Dislodging my faculties
Dislodging my powers,
Playing upon the keyboard of my emotions