I cannot live by their rules
Although I live under them.
I, poetic madman, by definition,
High priest of my own faith,
See the world and people in
Other lights and forms
Than the person on the street,
Who only sees their shape,
Their concrete outline,
While I, like artist, sculptor,
See them in shades and hues
Of their human needs and desires,
And frustrated expectations,
So, I seek to protray them
The way I wish they could live,
Somewhere between
The fallen angels, and
The erring human,
Hearing unspoken confessions,
Forgiving them for both and all,
Offering my absolution.
Donovan Baldwin