Dark room, all alone

thoughts of the day unravel

successes and failures

and all of life's treasures

combine putting the man on trial

in his lonesome desperation

and refusal to correct himself

he sins again in agony

despite the harm he does himself,

and cries.

so many scrambled values igniting in his mind

how many blessings kept from him

because of how he spends his time

and oh that guilt, that shame

that lack of sense of purpose

the coldness of a man who sleeps in shadows

the anger of that man who sees the light

the trials of a man who does not know how

to cultivate a righteous life

but oh, that sun, will come again tomorrow

and the banner of the cause will somehow rise

and the call to arms will beckon him to prosper

and he will choose whether to live among the Wise

who guides him only when he follows

and who does not tarry in correcting

the faults that lie at the bottom of the heart

of a man who tries to decide to fight

daily facing the fear of loss of life

he, who avoids the knowledge of what is right

so often just to keep from moving

out of the shackles of

cold wet darkness

in which he is most comfortable

and he waits for it to happen

as though he must take no part in it

as though he could never accomplish it

as though it were all on his shoulders to bear

and so he waits for it to happen

and does nothing

and he waits for it to happen,

and does nothing.