Repentance

 Here in a land of terraced fields

And hilltop churches,

I forgot You yesterday

And lived for a while

In the smelly old corpse

Of a Me I haven't been in years,

A Me that is as dead

As death itself,

That will never be raised again.

Thank You for the disgust,

The distaste

And sorrow

And regret

That attend the appearance

Of my Smelly Old Man,

But let me leave them

Atop his grave,

Where they belong,

As I walk into the freshness

Of this undiscovered country

Whose verdant foothills stretch

With welcome before me.