Why oft in darkness do I seem to live?
Eschewing the light that He freely gives.
Onward I plod, my perspective myopic,
My soul all in knots, though still philanthropic.
Half-blindly I tread, now as before,
Longing for peace on that foreign shore.
The days grow long, my heart goes faint,
Out in the cold, I sit, I wait.
When loneliness finds me, tattered and torn,
It is then that I know, soon comes the morn.
Cause when I’ve walked to the end of my light,
Its back to Him to I run, in the wrath of the night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem