Mystery Thee

Mystery Thee
I cannot understand thee
Rebellious soul!
In what small part or whole
Wouldst thou allow me to command thee?
Pray, whose conscience guides thee how to think
Lest thou from thy black liquors drink?

From the womb I did not crave thee
From the worms I cannot save thee!
The world it doth mistake thee
Not thus would I create thee
Nor once could I forsake thee.

Oh to fathom thy strange tongue
Thy wit, thy whims, thine insults slung
I cannot lull thee soft to sleep
Nor rouse thee from thy dreams
Nor still thy silent screams
Nor flex thine orbit from thy destiny.

Yet all I am seems owed to Mystery Thee
And so for now I choose to call thee, 'Me'.