Lover's Complaint Poem by Max Reif

I don't know how
a God so loving
can be so stern.

Nothing I've read
that purports to explain it
does so to my satisfaction.

Of course 'my' satisfaction
is just the point. You say
that 'me' is an impostor,
a leering mask
who's convinced everyone
he's the genuine article,

the self, and You, the real Self
are just watching the show,
patiently waiting.

But I don't know how
to reconcile all this
with the sweet
beauty of Creation

that is like Your Smile
saying 'I love you, this
is all My Gift to you',

that leaves me smiling too
to be a part of it all,
and feeling natural
and beautiful and included,

and then the next second
You have me putting
my shoulder to some
alien-feeling grindstone,
implying if I take it off,

or even want to,
or if I complain like this,
I don't really love You...