Blind to Love

you are a god of order and beauty

each day is like christmas

filled with good things

in different wrappings

i cannot disclose them all

mysteries never cease

i fantasise about righteousness

and arrange my gifts

some days i use them

but mostly i mistake them

and set them on display

to be admired as ornaments

or perhaps i wear them

as badges of honour

as if they're rewards

for work i've done

or else i throw them

into a heap

as a hoard of rusting treasures

while i continue with my flying

filled with complaint and bitterness

instead of getting your message

trying to land me on solid ground

to direct me out of the storm

i dream of peace and joy

when both are boxed in cargo

with my name on them

if only i would exit the control room

open your sacrifical love

strap it on tight

take the plunge to rapture

and make it home again