not for sentimentalists

this place was a shelter 

yet they chased me out 

for my god is blue, and my prayer unfamiliar. 

They said I took my life and

hanged it on a rack; now absorbed in song 

and dance, what seems to them a squander of my life. 

The woman gone mad; 

and a failed attempt to save me and bring me back 

to an anamorphic happiness. 

Thank you, but no. 

not knowing that I began to find myself, 

to them I am lost. 

To love god is not for sentimentalists;

for those who talk of light 

and of nebulous miracles - 

You bore me to death.