Skylight enclosures flitter through
Inky tunnels and corridors; and in
The silence of this secret room there goes
A candlelight disclosing the marks of sin.
I sing to myself in the dark
To ebb the tide of this protracted solace
Where I, the eternal scourge of the human ark
Salvage my lost pride---and act of penance!
Walls of perdition stand in the way
Of my path to salvation;
And I say to myself, rather than pray,
“Who is it that strives on the road to perfection?” 1 comment
I know I am somewhere far off
From that desired self, and not just a step
Off from a grove of flowers, where
Rough-ridden I seek oblivion dense and deep.
But now I know, amidst these long squalls
That blasts my face now and often, that I now
Inhabit the realms where the devil thralls;
Though I was not the one who wanted to know.
