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.