The Response

So today I am flat and grey 
and penitent
that I had such power over me 
and let it go, breathed it away
till knowledge like a scaffolding
of steel
is all
that remains of your bright will -
that golden light infilling and 
inflating till I soared 
above all men 
and breathed your air
has gone - and I a mortal man 
must remain in darker land, 
learn to grind your will on this 
cold steel, and build.
Was it sin?   Would it have dulled 
of its own accord despite 
my exhalation - the bright thing inhaled 
that gave me my new sight?
Did I do wrong?  How can I know? 
I will follow your directions and find out, 
try and quell that cold hollow 
wherein your angel dwelt.

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