Matrix Poetry

When writing this poetry, I wanted to play with the idea that the character of Eleanor is viewed as a stand-in figure for God by Marie. So that the actions that Marie takes within the narrative are considered justifiable actions in the name of reaching "God's" graces. Something to keep in mind is that when the poems refer to God as "them" it's about Eleanor, and when it refers to "The Lord" or "Him" it is about the Christian God, as Matrix is a story about Marie de France.

-

I do not see why God does not acknowledge me, I love them so.

My heart yearns for their attention, their touch, their embrace…their light.

God ignores me.

God mocks me.

How do I make them see?

I will raise myself from my station.

I will make myself worthy.

I will dignify myself as a being worthy of their attention.

Worthy of their touch.

Worthy of their embrace.

Worthy of their love.

Worthy of their praise…

Today, I lay here in the dingy abandoned institution erected in the Lord’s name.

Forsaken by my God to rot alongside the others who serve the Lord.

Tomorrow, I will manifest myself as a being of God’s equal, they will not be able to ignore me.

Through numerous, repetitive kneeling and grand measures of my own design

I have created my God-inspired visions.

A stronghold from evil.

A stronghold that only God and those I permit through may find.

It is winding.

It is confusing.

It is my love, materialized into the world of somber praying, unseemly quarters, and melancholic existence.

This will catch their eye.

This will make them notice me.

This will make them save me.

God mocks me once again.

And in their taunts, I still find love and admiration.

Of course, they jeer at my attempts to garner their attention.

It is not enough.

It is not nearly enough for God.

I will have to rise to a higher station.

I often think about the gentle tongue shared in my dimly lit room.

How I miss the touch of her fingers and the slide of her kiss.

In the moments where I fear God has forgotten me, I find her.

I find her between my legs.

I find her slipping her tongue in my mouth.

I find her fingers grazing against my skin.

And I forget about God…but only for a moment.

She is wild.

She is fire.

She is devious.

She is familiar.

A reincarnate of the living God.

My grand attempts to rebaptize the abbey into prosperity,

have been threatened by her presence.

Her adulterous habit has riddled her with expectance.

A habit that cannot infect this court of God.

A habit that has proven hollow, in its mortal consequence.

The Lord, God, and The Saints

could not have prepared me for her.

Her vibrant tenacity infecting the shuffling bodies of the abbey.

She is winning them over.

I cannot have that.

I cannot have her lay claim to all I have done here.

For the Glory to be bestowed upon me.

There is only to be one.

And she…is not.

It is a sullen day.

My reason has perished.

I thought God was immortal.

I thought God was everlasting.

I thought God was Elysian.

Not once did God bestow Glory onto me.

Not once did God pay me the attention I deserved.

Not once did God reward me.

Not once did God save me.

Not once…

God is dead.

And all that is left is the empty feeling of their absence.

My salvation will never come.

My Glory never realized.

My station unadmired.

My name to vanish.

The fingers that grazed my bare skin returned.

Her familiar lips had sung for others.

But she was here, and she was mine.

She is the closest to God that I will ever be.

The Lord is calling for me.

His Angels sing my name.

I shall go to him.

Maybe God will be there.

Maybe I can ask them why…