Falling Away Poem by Noah Smits

With my eyes sewn shut,
after much delay,
in the hand of God
I was found today.
Through a mesh of clouds
laced like macramé,
from my lofty perch
I could see the bay.

From my lofty perch
all of heresy
had revealed itself;
it made sense to me.
My reflection cast
on the level sea,
fifty acres' size,
stirred my vanity.

That expanse of face
taunted me to dive;
of my grace to purge;
of my place, deprive.
O, to turn to God!
O, for Him to strive!
That I leapt instead—
that myself I prized—
for I kept my pride,
toward the Earth I head—
how the bride has fled!
She is dead alive.