Oh what a tempest to see,
And have not been seen.
To breathe,
And have not been whispered upon.
To savor,
That which we believe sacred,
However not been savored ourselves.

What solitude is that which
Ignorance brings.
What cold-stone heartedness
Does that create.
What wrathful sickness
Does that generate
On our untended souls.

O fate! Spare me from
Such cruel suffering.
Do not leave me to the hands
Of those who leave the sick
Untended;
And leave me to the
Erosional pass of the elements.

Please do not dig
The ditch upon I am to befallen.
Do not chisel
The traces of my features
Without me having
Been benefited
With the joy of rapport.

Spare me from the madness
Of solitude.
For I am too young
To be left alone.