Grant us the strength to smash our sacred vessels
For they cruelly constrain our protean soulwine.
They were crafted by distant ancestors
To lend shape to their possibilities
Color to their failures and fruitions
Hope to their dearest dreams
Fear to their dread nightmares
And peace to their sad passings.
But in our present flux filled world
It is in shape shifting that we unseal
Identity and salvation.
If we can muster our courage
And quaff our own souls' powers with clear brave eyes
We may willfully transgress our hindering binds
And continually evolve into ourselves.
This is the strength I demand of myself
The icon-shattering strength
Of honest disillusionment
That only I can grant.
In truth I feel stronger already:
Stronger and more able to love.