Words, an effigy of thought burned lost
And for what it cost, ‘twas all for naught.
Yet as a smothered flame they burn on
Like the unheard song of the ceaseless rain
Would that I’d listened, would that I’d tried
To myself I have lied, to my own soul…sinned.
I claim not to forgive nor forget
But to my regret, it’s my own life bereaved    
So I tell myself my future’s blank,
Cling to honor black, to rotten wealth
And bequeath to no one, not even I,
The gifts I eschew. There’s only to run.
Would you forgive me? For I cannot.
For all I was taught, I still cannot see.
And I keep to myself, keep it a void
The words left uncoined yet remain shelved
But the ice of thought melts, slowly thawed
By my illimitable awe of life unfelt
I’ll listen with care for the song of the rain
So the suffering flame feels a breath of fresh air