29 Nov If God Made Me He

The question as to why we should live at all, I mention
For it presses upon my instincts for death and mating,
Why gratify either? I ask, what worthy hope am I sating
In doing my doings or loving one into more by extension
And making tribes? I cannot go on without its elucidating,
Yet I dare to falter in nature to secure a divine dimension,
Not what I deify but what deifies me after all of my waiting.

What is it to be God but to be good and purposeful per se,
If God made me He, He brings to His all mine unto mind
Washing the world at its feet in the dark of Maundy Thursday
Like lost light in a sphere crackling stars on deserts you find.

You can know a thing by its activities and its deeds,
And for man only certainty causes sin if he sin sincerely:
He knows his nature and his energy defies it all, nearly,
But not eternal root sprouting slowly its darkened seeds,
That he forgot to list suffering among all of his needs.

The answer to my own question floods the widest plain,
See to it you suffer for Holiness purchased you with pain.