Twas a time
When once I knew
The scale and shape of things.
I knew what lay before me;
I knew my goals and dreams.
But now all is laid to ruin,
A change I could not predict;
So I'll make my bed tonight,
In standards derelict,
But think not on its squalor,
And instead be glad to be;
For I am but a story,
And there is more to see.
So
Shall I write a woeful ballad,
And mourn my frightful luck?
Shall I be so morose,
And into sorrow tuck
Myself and all my wishful thinking,
A hollow husk, once whole;
Shall I give in and linger on,
As time doth take its toll?
A more miserable thing
I could not express,
A fate most easily averted;
For happiness follows misery
And misery can be converted
Into iron will, and understanding,
Into change, where I emerge anew-
We are the only things we can command;
So why bottle up and stay blue?
Is it not better,
That once fallen down
To pick ourselves up
And stand on solid ground?
I will not be a burden,
But neither let my burdens bog me down;
Why should I give less power to a smile than a frown?
Nay, my story shall be one
Of determined resurrection -
Like the Phoenix I shall be soar-
Just in a different direction.
And thus learn in the process
Of being laid low
That I can fly,
That I can grow,
That limits are something that must be tested,
Not to be shelved, sheltered, and rested.
And in the end,
This tale is mine to tell-
Of making a heaven,
Having gone through hell.