Would you lay a pattern on life and say, thus shall ye live?
I tell you that is a denial of life;
I say that thus we pour our spirits in a mold, and they cake and die.
I want to go to the man who quickens me;
I want the gift of life, the flame of his spirit eating
along the tinder of my heart;
I want to feel the flood-gates within flung open and the tides
pouring through me;
I want to take what I am and bring it to fruit.
Quicken me, and I will grow;
Touch me with flame, and the blossoms will open and the fruit appear.
Call forth in me a creator, and the god will answer.
And then, if I commit what you call a sin,
Better so.
It will not be a sin. It will be a mere breaking of your patterns;
For the only sin is death, and the only virtue to be altogether
alive and your own authentic self.
_Century_ _James Oppenheim_