rife & rhyme

~
Blackness fills the cup which is my shell
And I fight for stars to light this well
which is my soul; the spark which moves my life
is gone; I live on pain and hurt and utter strife.

I seek for light, to color it with dawn.
I find an inky ebon and I mourn.
I watched their lives, content with each day’s passing,
And my life passed as I their lives was watching.

There were no fireworks the day that I was born
Neither famous lines from my mouth spoken;
I did no thing to merit myself known
And done no deed to earn a special token.

So tell me then, is my life worth the living?
Are there reasons I should let this empty shell go on
and take the space which others might do well in using;
There is no alternative: I have to run.

Lord, take me then into Your loving arms,
Welcome this sad child whom no one but herself can know;
I seek Your peace, Your loving, Your graceful beauty;
Allow me death, and in death Life, a fitting show.
~