The great wish is that we shall never feel,
Dark as the shady thorns over the yonder;
Beating hearts of gloom just atop the hill
Men with rage they neglect the ponder.
Oh, it were I was happy fool as any
Content to play the game of dull pretense,
Specious are these moments for so many;
Truth tales of lies to their own bitter ends.
Some would weasel that amends could be made
Bed is done lied in, for shame has come in;
Son against father with sharp verbal blade
Killed a command, instead honored sin.
Yet in the dark, light still filtered good through,
Heaven and hell, God above only who knew.