Addicted to regret

Addicted to my regret
Tears of guilt
I need the pike in my heart
The hammering of soul
It rends, it claws
Making me bleed clearly from the sides of the things I call eyes

Even in the light of day
Under clear sky
Tasting the unsullied air
I only see the despair
It chokes, it beats
Making me regret the wind in my chest that thing called life’s breath

We may learn something from the sight of Churches where religion is not abandoned to the care of women and children, but is claimed as the right and the privilege of men; where the Church reposes not so much on the force and influence of its clergy as on the independent knowledge and manly zeal of its laity.

Lectures on the History of the Eastern Church by Arthur Penrhyn Stanley