Almighty Lord

Almighty Lord,

1. Forgive me for daring to intrude upon Your impenetrable thoughts, but it is my sufferance that entitles my action.
2. I am a young man suffering from AIDS, a walking shadow, helpless and wretched.
3. My friends are shunning me, my fellows lend no ear to my cry, the dead do not yet admit me as one of their own, and above all, Heaven itself is set against me.
4. This illness is far more ruthless than the pains Your Son has experienced.
5. AIDS is a cross of torment, which allows no liberation despite all bursting iconostases, and all the clouds obscuring the face of the world,
6. a stake that burns you, but offers no easy consummation, a perfidious death which endlessly kills you and brings you back to life.
7. Were they to suffer from such a disease, the stoics would have burned away their treatises and Job himself would have attempted suicide.
8. My days are growing less, and the earth is about to gulp me down in its relentless Leviathan gut which is too narrow to hold the universe I shall descend with, and yet too spacious for a handful of flesh defiled by the claws of this disease, as if by the claws of a bird of prey.
9. I am young, my Lord, and my voice is fading out, my feet are growing weak and my mouth is embittered.
10. My chest is burning and flames are scorching my throat.
11. Why do you send me to my grave in the prime of my life? The world is dear to me and I do not wish to die!
12. If I do not disturb the peace of your heavenly abode, why do You not allow me to enjoy my earthly ways?
13. Let the pyre of my pain find consummation on the pyre of the world!
14. In breezy levitations let me soar above the oceans to cool my greenish flames.
15. Were I to drip only a drop of the venom that You gave me, it would suffice to kill Your universe.
16. The very serpents are queuing up to quench their thirst thus in my venom.
17. Crushed between heaven and earth, celestial morning stars keep twinging at my skull and grass is sprouting on my entrails.
18. Oh Lord, despite my ever-clenching fists, life is still slipping out of my hands like a slimy fish.
19. Exhaustless spring of feverish waters is my forehead, and death has nestled in my face(continue to reading onhttps://www.patreon.com/VasileChira).