As pain does silent enter sorrow’s narrow, darkened halls
she hides her ashen face behind doubt’s shawl.
And whispers words seductive to deceive heart’s fragile truth,
that threatens constant, love’s sweet and final proof.
This shadow wraith firm holds the hand of promised joys,
and pulls toward the path of lies and ploys.
There is no chance of clasping mind to fulsome hopes,
when hurt sings loud the song of loss and curse.
The siren calls of suffering are sweet on hollow ears,
and courage is surrendered in honour of our fears.
To bind the ropes upon the mast of purpose,
is Soul’s demand in order to resist the curse.
In throwing back the cloth which hides the past,
we make our way beyond what holds us fast.