When I make love to the universal clause,
I sometimes forget myself.
When I lose heart and ground to sadness,
I discover that nothing remains the same.
When I deliver a sermon of righteous indignation,
I realize I only have myself to blame.
When I try to forget what I said last night,
I remember the truth that I whispered today.
When I sort through the ground for answers,
I dig up graves of regret.
When I gaze at my ugly features in a mirror,
I reflect my distance toward my beauty.
And then I sigh and think,
I am therefore I drink.