That sin that dies and shall never be forsaken..
The heart that beats restless in my body, beside
my organs, organs clean and clear! for how can that be?!
The hour, The hour, as time will go by, my fate has turned
yellow, checks red, lips puckered and feet in desperation
to fly. what to see what to be, will the person I call God
forgive? The world is restless ready to go, ready for
that saying, waiting for the end and new begining, that has
been craved from the start, and pushed to the side for ones
selfishness.
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It makes perfect sense! And even if it didn't that would be fine. I think making sense in the literal sense isn't really poetry's strong point anyway. Poems are more about building something up and letting the reader decide how it all fits together. And you build some wonderful things here. "my body, beside/ my organs" suggests an amazing image of a person outside of their body, which works well with the spiritual things you're talking about (if i'm reading it right). I'm gonna post a Yeats poem which I think might speak to (or with) what you've written.
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