Acold

I ask questions

On life and expectation

And why I befriend

Fear and anticipation

I went to the forest

I look for the mountains

I ask to the lord

Can I put on behold?

And on the night I came

For the cure of the pain

I hummed to the hymn

Of the birds and the rain

Should I resign

Like a defeated soldier

on a bloody battlefield?

Or should I insist

Like a spider

on a windy foothill?

I sat in the night

In the least of possible light

I found myself acold

And a self-tormented soul