To the younger brother

You, yesterday's boy,

to whom confusion came:

Listen, lest you forget who you are.

It was not pleasure you fell into. It was joy.

You were called to be bridegroom,

though the bride coming toward you is your shame.

What chose you is the great desire.

Now all flesh bares itself to you.

On pious images pale cheeks

blush with a strange fire.

Your senses uncoil like snakes

awakened by the beat of the tambourine.

Then suddenly you're left all alone

with your body that can't love

you and your will that can't save you.

But now, like a whispering in dark streets,

rumors of God run through your dark blood.

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