Feeble are the lines of grief,
For hope is growing strong.
Somewhere I do believe,
The joy will last an extra furlong.
Heaven might ask for patience,
Hell might ask for action.
I ask myself for what I want,
For I am my glorious world.
The opinions have been divided,
Mockery and applause in duel.
Yet I look back and see nothing,
For my view is inclined towards life.
A cacophony of unheard sound,
A testimony of unwritten word.
I step on the threshold of freedom,
Guiding the little soul inside me.
Sunset is as pleasing as sunrise,
Journey is greater than the prize.
In beauty and the voices of poor,
My hope does still thankfully reside.