Inquisitor, my heresies confessed

[joel]

Inquisitor, my heresies confessed
delight before you; my mistaken loves
I’ll not recant—but prouder publish all
their folly: if inadequate, but know
weak whims of truth and love confused abate
beloved darkness otherwise at hand.
Forgive my proud ineptitude. I rose
my eyes in faith upon the hills and chose
to meditate where scarred the heavens stand,
where glacial peaks and clouds full obfuscate
both divine, mundane interfaced. And though
I cannot scale to touch that cold, enthrall
imagination: in their shade, wind moves
and I imagine love in truth professed.

[Ann Bingham]

"....wind moves
and I imagine love in truth professed."



to let out all to obtain truth.

love lots