Life on this side so tempting,
Love of life, attachment of it,
shackles thrown on my wrist
disguised in pleasure, smiles.

And them, hound around,
drooling on my oblivion of their
werewolf camouflage pelt,
lances tilt and flash on their backs,
ready to rip off my ribs,
tedious to several of those scars
three, seven, nineteen and on…

Their art, awaken their pleasures;
Then I found a space to fit Him,
in my heart He complained not.
Less burdensome they became,
that voyage to the cross
the presence of meaningfulness
that was only the extremes-
for me and for them
of best and of worst
to rejoice and to torment…