A Poem by Niko

Mea Culpa

Hail and thunder knock my heart cold from the sky

Mary seems so far away.

full of deceit and empty of

grace, I go to the place

blessed by those whose lives are pure

art, like a Caravaggio, like a pieta.

Thou liveth

amongst us, we broken

women and men. why hast thou

Blessed us?

is the fruit of our sins so sweet?

of thy desires I know nothing.

womb to tomb we are nothing but cells and dirt!

Jesus.

Holy - words like butterflies from the sky

Mary I have no other hope. what is the

Mother of our depravity?

God. I cover my face. I try and fail to

pray. I am the damned and

for us damned there is no rest,

sinners until the earth rises in wrath.

now and then I am reminded that

at the hour of judgement,

of our glory, the last enemy destroyed is

death.

11/26/11
Nicko's Nature