A reflective monologue on the hope and dream of a more assured existence...
Between life and death, I employ my nobler mind; and sojourn here without my soul's most meager joy. Can discord's violence be near my absent bliss to now destroy my furtive dreams that are so dear? I, a mild soul who lives with hope, seek salvation from death and strife; and struggle valiantly to cope and thrive (as if my looked-for life's beyond escaping from Death's scope and the edge of his razor scythe). It'd be more easy to just die, than to live, flourish,—and so give myself the gift of soaring high! I engineer and thus contrive, than let salvation pass me by without a fair chance to survive.
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