The Hope That Does Not Hold

As I watch a darkness fall on my hand,
Shall I ever see the kindness that it could have had?
To be shown the ways of a path,
That I have not known for so many years before.
To be as a world among the stars—
Should shed a light as Gods heavenly eye.
For does now even he know me!

Can I wish to hold that cup of life?
In a hand stained in bloody ambition,
An embodiment of what shattered hope will rise.
Find a dear sweet smell that will wander among the land,
Spilling the fruits of nature,
In the mouths of creatures large and small,
To be or not to know,
Can be the truth of this dear home?

For hath thou seen a white silk that does not brown,
Or a black that does not fade...
For this shall be me as a man with no hope,
To wander upon broken glass,
With a hand held high,
Scraping the pinnacles of this hopelessness.