The Agony of Existing

Pray, If Existing requires it that we suffer, That we gain not that which we seek, That the lump on our heart keeps getting heavier, Have you ever wondered If it might be simply because The Power who created us Might be suffering as well? Maybe It suffers for reasons known to itself, Maybe It be an artist who cannot find its meaning In a vast and puzzling cosmos Maybe It cannot find the purity that It seeks From those life forms It has created Maybe in Its heart, the melody of agony keeps playing Submerging It in tears, being reflected as the billions Of stars which we, with our human eyes, enjoy On dark and lonely nights! Maybe that's why, It has delivered to us, books of holiness Announcing thereby that those who shall love It Genuinely shall be allowed grace and mercy As to be given a better opportunity at Existing! Why, I wish I could decipher the meaning of this Power If not, At least have the means To rewire my switches As to make sure I suffer no more From the harshness given back to me When I simply seek to love With mystical willed intentions! Pray, The story of my life, Would be one written with the blood Dripping from my heart Pricked and cut by the harshness of the pain With which I suffer As If the Power that brought me forth Itself suffers, Then, Harmonizing my pain with Its own Would most probably be that which It seeks!