My arms are a base for my torture,
The chains swept by disease are harnessed
And change comes over me as I reach
Into the bag of crowns and jewels;
Wearing each is like points for the soul,
To learn them carries a lesson of pain.
Right suffering is the divine blessing,
Containing my stairway into heaven.
My legs are feebler everyday before I
Pass away and arrive with rightness and wrongness
Depending on my frame and granite head,
Why do they feed such flames?
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