Pain

In shadows profound, where distresses stay,

The unpleasant throb, an immortal spell,

Agony's quiet tears, in dimness sob,

An ensemble of wounds, perpetually steep.

It murmurs delicately in the evening,

An unwanted visitor, without light,

However in its grasp, we track down our solidarity,

For torment is the artist of life's incredible lengths.

It cuts our spirits, both profound and wide,

Uncovering bits of insight we frequently stow away,

Through cracked dreams and broke glass,

We arise more grounded, from agony's savage handle.

In each sorrow, an example learned,

In each tear, a scaffold returned,

For torment, however brutal, can liberate us,

To track down the elegance in difficulty.

So let us not dread the preliminaries we face,

For inside torment's hug, we track down our effortlessness,

In its cauldron, we are refined,

Also, through the dimness, our light will sparkle.

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