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Peter Steward's Web Pages |
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On My Site University WorkNoticeboard
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In Hope That Unfortunates Will Find a Better Life Next Time Around They have nothing, but somehow their feelings are the same, The same as a normal person, Hushed in uncontrollable penitence
Their eyes are shut, but somehow they see the torture the torture that is the world, stirring in unquestionable fate.
They sing without knowing the rhyme or reason, the reason that leads them in circles Ever entwining amongst their endless torment.
Wonderless is their world, unique in their innocence Their innocence which is a world within a world Cruel but still living.
Living in a world of wonder A wonder to them that is too broad, deep and strong To understand the lonely meaning.
Their life will never raise itself beyond this turmoil This turmoil of scattered tins and jangling objects Their pearls of wisdom
They are many, But perhaps theirs is a special existence which will be bettered.
No sins will destroy them And perhaps they will be better in the Next world for this.
Slow words will never be known again Speech will not matter, For theirs will be the honour, theirs the glory.
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