It was a dark and chilly night,
not a soul in sight.

From heavens came the downpour,
my food turned cold and sour.

I opened my door and let them in,
o’er them, death shall never win.

The fireplace was dying,
grey wood everywhere lying.

But my soul was bright,
despite my endless plight.

And my heart’s on fire,
rising from the quagmire.

They left my home at dawn,
fresh as a blooming lawn.

My season came, leaving me dry
as a desert, asking me why.

I looked along the horizon,
as far as Mount Zion.

They were nowhere to be seen,
and my mind began to glean.

I was shouting into the rain,
drowned in thunderous pain.

They left me cold in that dark night,
then I decided to be my own light.

I expected warmth from serpents,
now they have become divergents.



My spirit began to see the lies,
I stood up against the frosty ice.

I began building my lighthouse,
whose light no waters can douse.

Whose glow through darkness rips,
now a beacon for wandering ships.