does heaven grow smaller every day
or do my wants grow bigger?
my fervour is at its zenith
and yet from it, heaven shrinks away
lord, won’t you please take my enthusiasm?
it is all i desire; a thing to be devoted to
realism is making house calls
as a spectre, an uninvited geist
my zeal, though no less integral,
has revealed itself as irrational
silly; no longer based in our material
a shame - such a powerful thing to lose
must it be discarded then?
no, this love grounds itself in more than mere belief
it is a conviction not that the world can change, but that it will
not something bound by false spirituality, forced realism
if salvation comes not from heaven
we shall forge our revolutionary heaven on earth