Jesus' love

O Jesus, Lord!
You are so soft,
like down,  
like flakes of falling snow,
so good to me
that I can never,
any longer, frown.
 
You’ve taught mankind
to plainly see, to know
that, like old Plato
and the Orphics claimed
before you came
to earth,
and like the Gnostics, too,
assert against the orthodox,
I have (I am)
an entombed soul
and its intended berth,
its telic goal,  
its home is up aloft,
not here within
this doomed, corrupt
(though blessed as good
by God;  
please  see you what is said
in Genesis)
material world.
 
I give you cliched thanks
for what I think
you did
to make my kind
your kids!
 
So can I call you Dad?
If not, I’ll be so sad
and then return
to doing bad.