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I sit here now, confused, surrounded by
this light, my poet's powers collecting
succulents, but that they lie deranged; where
they should come to meet me my eye extends
down a barren road, and I realise
my poverty: blame curls in like a page
turning over - "I should have done that!" and
"I must do this!" - and I hearken closely
to the expedient that directed
those past actions, and which compels this pen
now: faith! One word joining me to the Heart,
in whom I have confided, then acted,
then confided in the outcome, so that I
remained always in faith, preserved in flames!
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