I am the source of your faults
but also the crib of your virtues.
I am contradiction and doubt
but also belief and superstition.
With me rest ideology and treachery;
next to the power of the profane
lies the wisdom of a homily.
With me you build a home
and breathe meaning into family,
brother, mother, grandson
and young old friendships.
You manifest your memories
and tell all your hardships.
You scale hope and disgrace
or cheat your way in this race;
the good and the perverse
are subjects of my universe,
they revolve on my axis,
as shepherds of stars
or hunters of galaxies.
With me you can be or not to be
or charge against windmills;
write the form of water
or break down nuclear matter.
Shade travelers or nest prejudice,
shelter strangers or criticize
the migrant and the urbanite.
You can get all men to unite
or in the name of your God kill
those standing on a godless hill.
With me you can wrap
your tongue in distance
and oppose coexistence,
or inject understanding
in each syllable of your thoughts
to utter wide open roads,
to mirror with the borders of a word
the resounding bliss of your love.