Love in Old Ways

Stopped loving in old ways, without vocal care

or deliberate misunderstandings,

you gave me the world l could live in

only after you cancelled yourself.

But in this empty mansion you built laboriously,

I haven’t received peace as you promised.

The absence of you makes you here,

the center of the house all the time,

as I become the head of you,

as a church to my God.

Time is boiling in this giant pot,

in which every second is losing face.

Days repeat, or just stagnate, l cannot tell.

Maybe I have grown outside of time,

and cannot deal with it anymore.

Maybe time is still wheeling

since l could recognize nights from days,

but l cannot tell the difference between them,

neither can l distinguish between

the silence from the turbulence:

your protection from your punishment.

The seething time burns everything to the same

like people’s faces in markets.

Although masks are various everyday,

what underneath are all the same.

Maybe it’s not the right time to stop loving,

since the church loves her Lord only in old ways.

I am washed with the world through your turbulent silence,

and it’s time you present yourself to me once more.

The absence of you makes you here forever,

but only your appearance could bring the distinction of me,

making me holly, as a clean radiant building;

making me blameless, as you always promse.