Thus far my child,
In solitude our minds,
When shut down all of outside,
To whom black is holy and white is stain,
To whom the Sun only burns,
But shelter is rain,
Carry bitterness on our shoulders,
And another world in our brains,
With the light of our eyes put out,
With poison for blood in our veins,
We walk a path of thorns and roses,
Taking in the pain,
Also scent of the petals sweet,
I hope you have learnt now child,
How a poet's heart bleeds,
'But how much more poetry' I plead,
Oh life will you squeeze away from me,
Yet our kind looks up to the sky,
With courage,
And fear that our hope may die,
Over and over,
Must we break our hearts,
Failing, searching and thirsting for love,
Must we all die to know,
If there is heaven up above?
