You are not, will not, do not what you dream.
One accepts that one cannot be pure.
Moreover, there are sins you would redeem,
Knowing that your world remains secure.
In you there is a longing to be known,
Peered right through, as sun lights up a room,
Perhaps just as you promise to atone,
Understood and loved by One whose doom
Remains wet, not yet hardened into stone.
