To you , dear God;
I put down my humble thanks:
My pen drained of pain of laughter-
I have been laughing
since you told me my greatness
is engraved on my forehead
greater it is than this gratifications.

I strive so hard to thrive,
sometimes cut short to breath
Perhaps , I don't deserve to breath
Pain as be my acquaintances-
Do they count many are my acquaintances
as a spirit dreadfully live:

They write be my right to grow,
they been my light wholly night
leading to the new-old age of sight:
be me their right to their holy greatness,

Their site of growth, look;
Broth of heal,
Broth of cook,
Heaven in hell.