My life is filled with pain, and light hides away from me.
I awake to anguish and only angst of my soul greets me.
Hope has proved herself an invention of imagination - - I look for her, but she never reveals even a hair.
Like the wind, she echoes around but never penetrates my being.
I am like a mongrel dog seeking food even from the refuse bags - - always seeking but never finding.
I lament a sorrowful song for myself for no one comes to comfort my aching soul. My soul is like the ever-thirsty desert soil that is ever ready for rain.
It hungers and thirsts but is put to shame with each passing moment.
My life is filled with sorrow, and unlike a caged bird, I cannot sing.
Like a seedling at the mercy of the heavens; the scorching sun and watering clouds, so is my soul at the mercy of my deliverer.
I await an arrival that if made manifest, offers eternal hope.