White Dress, Red Letter

In conversation, I'm a poet and a priest
I wear this mask to hide and satisfy my needs
I speak of glory then I demonize the way
I'm a piece in the puzzle that is somehow out of place
Each day away makes it harder to grasp
The resurrection or absolution of the past
Why do I find the need to cover my eyes?
In my pocket, by self design,
Lives a hunger to keep hope alive
And still this question
Comes to the surface in my dreams
Is my pocket where it's meant to be?
Drink from the grape of the one true vine
Fulfill this hunger with the bread of life
As I sleep, I slide in place
A silhouette leads me to the corner
Guided by the light of grace
This search for freedom you will never find
Without the guidance of the Son of high
This search for freedom you will never find
The only glory that can heal the blind
This search for freedom you will never find
The only maker that can end all time