The Soul of Faust
by Marcus Draik

The infant's heart is in his skin
The world is for his gain
So good is felt through pleasant touch
And evil felt through pain.
And so remain the pharisees
As Heaven they deride
They stride the earth on stiffened knees
And sell their souls to pride.
Exhorting their apostasy
In unity's facade,
The golden calf of science:
In its sheen behold their god!

Until the hour when darkened eyes
Might see with light divine
Man's righteous choice can but be gleaned
From text and nature twine.
Were steps determined as in script
Could conscience be pursued
Or would the choice among two roads
From birth be so endued
To brand one's soul through sinful pact
Confined in evil's hold
Is this the act of mortal dust
Or He who cast its mold?

The faulty vessel, faulty still
Regardless hand's intent
As evil kilned for evil's sake
Cannot by role repent
Though worthiness by ego's glare
Is skewed in shallow eyes
Such vessel's role has etched its fate
And bidden its demise
Though righteous steps may fall away
By choice or by design
Scripts only learnt as blindly played
Would still our lives define