poem - untitled

again i drink the blood again
the remedy my sin doth need
to live far greater than before
as ruler i, its home, doth heed

the drink runs deep, through deed and word
and though my heart ought not adore
its pleasant sting, it cannot choose
instead with death a close rapport

it seems it’s i who must decide
in such a way to live refuse
and so i cut, the sin flows free
but lives, my drear pretense its ruse

so if not i, if not my heart
to rid this life of misery
of selfishness, regret, then who?
its grasp my life alone can’t flee

again the blood drinks me again
regardless that which hitherto
hath reigned, ‘tis He who sweetly forms
a beautiful creation ‘new’