When fear, pain, and anguish seem too godlike to vanquish,
The fruits they produce overpower light’s source,
And its beams are obstructed by the cruel walls constructed,
With sole purpose of hindering love’s divine course.
Further bruising and shaking bare souls that are breaking, The senseless misfortunes at pure heart’s expense, So predictably woeful in all eyes but the hopeful, For a cycle must stagnate for a new to commence. Good intentions are nesting where lost loves are resting, The burdens of ego prevent the faith’s flow, Intuitions are suggesting that fears are infesting Our frail blooming hearts that wish only to grow.