Cost

I wake to wrap around me some comfort, thin and soiled.
The tighter I cling, the more strained and torn it becomes.
The scanty drink is tainted and the bread, stale.
The darkness and damp are too much for me, and what
eases the shivering cold and wet is what I borrow and steal from heaven.

I have heard it said that heaven gives of these things freely,
that they are gifts and blessings to those that are open, to whom
can receive them without shame.

But I have only seen the cost and consequence of the world,
where payment is due in full.

What is the cost? What is it to suffer? It is to be blind.
It is to be fractured into the Many. It is to be deceived.
What has God withheld from you?
Only what you have withheld from yourself.
What have you stolen from Him?
It has always been yours.