Do you think my aloneness was brittle or was char?
Do you think it beset me with wounds or a mere scar?
I had a dream that when I awoke simply got created
It was a miracle; yet was defeated but never outdated
You can see the stars at every nightly moment and hour
Do you ever realise that there must be a dream gone sour?
Whodunnit? Would you believe evil won it? But the summit
still lies within the soul of the creator, not the one who stole it!
I know the prejudices that I hold are not mistaken
You must all know that what was mine was taken
There are so many hands that make the work of treachery light
Who wonders, then, if that original light is in no one’s sight?
Do you all believe in true justice, or do you wish to fake it?
The emblems of love and loyalty were all my pedagogy
even if the resounding music must come out of percussion
I am still a life working its way in mutiny, it is not without cause
You must know my innocence is no ignorance, yet a loss
I can be confounded at all times. Treachery’s iron may be hot;
You may discount God for short-lived benefits, but you really ought not!
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