Life obscured
sorrow assured,
lonely nights
and bitter days...
Yet in this pain
a constant refrain
bringing to heights
the sacred blaze.
Hope matured
for pain to be cured,
wings to be grown
and sky to uplift
not as a loan,
as it is known
but an eternal
and beautiful gift.
I will endure,
of this I’m sure,
more of disdain,
and sneer, and scoff
but from the gates
of future days
curses like paints
are flaking off.
1 November 2011