A Wisp Of Truth Poem by Okunola Peace

I fear for the future that lies before me
And the steps I must climb to reach high
Towards a better life with comfort and peace
That seems to be scarce in my quiet life.


I toss and turn on my softly-made mattress,
Even sleep eludes me like an injured beast
That has found only pain in my gentle caress
And now I wonder, o' how I wonder still.


What shall I do to brightly kindle
Like summer's coal that burn brightly
When winter's wintry touch dwindles
With the frosty wind that kills softly.


I pray o' how I pray for hope to rise high,
Higher than the sun that compels us from sleep
For when the mind has nothing to give it life,
The fire of hell might be a welcome relief.