James Walter Orr
What cursed evil plagues the soul?
What nameless something grips the mind?
What, horrible and deadly, lurks,
pledged to destroy, to slavery bind?
Dark, terrible, with sudden strife,
forbidden memories assail
that cannot be, alas, turned back.
The slave, led mind, can only quail.
Desires, thought conquered long ago,
yet once again attack the reason:
submerged sometimes, but threatening yet,
grow more malignant with each season.
All judgment, sound in calmer time,
tormented, twisted, warped anon;
t’would not e’en death be better yet
than conscience cursed and trampled on?
Rise once again above the foe
oh fading strength: yet do not fail.
Once more submerge the devilish hordes:
Oh strength, once more to stand the gale.
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