Fire and brimstone

A text in every texture
           but texts for nothing
the sinews of my soul
           laid boldly here in the lattice
formed by my many deeds
           and misdeeds
strokes that have
           gone astray
paths that led
           into dark ground
where bearings
           were soon lost

I see too the flickering flames
           of reds and yellows and orange
with streaks of black
           that burn in self-recrimination
a mind charred
           in the failing honesty
of its art and upon it all
           the criss-cross
of patterned purity
           with which I still hope
to redeem myself
           in my time
in my place
           in my life

John Lyons