Baptism By Fire

It is at last finished. There is only this stand,

This baptism by fire in the land of the dead  

This font of holy water in which I place my head,

Laughing without irony at all which is damned

Laughing at all that is profane and forced to move

Through the market place, passing inner temple doors.

Laughing at all that are flawed beyond hope, rich and poor,

Mired in delusion's mad depths beyond all reproof

Pointing fingers at myself I laugh, cold as ice,

For no one is as damned as me,  and so I submerge

In a pool of fire, which takes all of my courage;

Self-destruction and willed failure my main vice

This laugh of bravery, this laugh unfinished

Bellowed past futile conceit,  past all raw defeat

A laugh at all that is wholly damned that I repeat

A brave, imperfect laugh forever undiminished

Through the gales of eternal hell arising

In waves of turmoil, troubling these clear, still waters

With irony, but that no doubt can cause to falter,

Not this laugh which bellows through this baptizing