The coffee best with little dash of cream,
the sunlight best when it is but one beam
that pierces through the shadows and ignites
the all-embracing shadows of the Night.
The laughter best when it is marred by pain,
the freedom come for those who are ordained,
and in the confines of oblivion
is found the seed of man’s dominion.
The crown be salvaged from the wreck of ash,
the grin be loosened from the deep crevasse
of unyielding afflictions that enrich
the body that is dug out of the ditch.
The tooth dislodged and so the blood come forth;
the forest felled to sanctify a torch
to be held through the valleys of despair
out of whose gristly belly come un’snared
those souls that have endured and that have dared
defy the endless darkness that is theirs,
believing in a thing they cannot see,
believing in the summons of the Free.