An open book for you: A poem 

I try to be an open, undisguised book 

For you to turn pages and take a look 

Naked I walk, an animal in sunshine 

Adam didn’t cover himself when he was sublime 

The crosses I carry I drop at your feet 

The woodchips to pick at like sheafs of wheat 

You know now that I am always at crossroads 

The thorns that pierce me also have roses aboard 

The air outside is not salubrious, but yet I breathe 

My blind eyes finger the braille, thus I can read 

I hope it moistens your cheeks that my sacrifice leads 

your doorway to the garden without poison weeds 

If fortune was always achievable, would paradise be gained? 

There would be a perennial deluge, if it always rained 

My candles were blown out by harsh winds right at the start 

But I long realised that the fire was burning in my heart