Hierographology

What is it with your nature that taunts me so?

Immobile by virtue of your birth and circumstance

Yet so artful, so capable of moving even the most hardened of souls

With a single masterful touch

Some take refuge in your philosophy

And find solace in your infinite wisdom

The prodigal creature that returns

Finds absolution in your breast

A seeker entombed in his own discernments

Is enlightened by your caress

And the disciple who blundered in his youth

Revels in triumph before your truth

Standing before you, at this juncture

Without qualms, without reservations

I am prepared to enter your pyre

In hopes of seizing redemption

From this wayward desire

And so I place my world upon your feet

This paltry life that is so incomplete

Purge me from this mindless obsession

Such is the crux of my confession