In the morning gray I see your light
shining through the clouds at break of day.
Winter wind blows strong against the gray
moving to liberate the day from night.
My heart is like this day filled with fright
because I do not know if victory will stay
or if the wind of my will vanishes the gray.
I sit in the limbo of such a plight.
Struggling with the light and with the dark
of my own soul’s much conflicted self,
I somehow know my struggle is defeat
because my will is but a misguided lark.
What I know is my will is but hell
and so I must wait for your light to greet.

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