Far afield

I try to have my worldly
and saintly too.
Instead of one master,
I'm serving two.

I love the one,
and hate the other.
Those far afield,
they call me "brother."

How did I come
to be their kin?
I'm too shameful to
stand next to them.

They have such virtue
and where is mine?
They're far afield,
I'm far behind!

One heart?
Hardly.
I've two at best.
And the third one's
bound with much duress.

And if it escapes,
the forest burns.
I fail applying
what I have learned.

Lost and wand'ring
somewhere outside.
All but blinded
by my pride.

Washed up on the
shore of saints.
One among them?
This, I ain't.

Mentally,
I know what to do:
Discount the false,
embrace the True.
Three times repentance
bows to you.
I strive for worldly
and saintly two.