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The sun shines in most sparkling, perfect brilliance for those,
Whose lives are set against backdrops of plenty and success,
While we damned trudge within an existence filled with woes,
Rarely glimpse its rays through rents in the shrouds of tempest.

Whilst those giddy, giggling sojourners seeking pleasure dance,
Along scintillating halls of privilege so high above the storm,

We damned struggle on treks fraught with miserable happenstance,
And beneath eternal skies of black our wretched burdens are borne.

"Oh, but life is so ridiculously short!" assert the golden gods,
So enjoying their romps through time and space devoid of all care,
"We simply must find a way to prolong the ball by years and rods!,
For,after all,is it not our right to go on? Surely 'tis but fair?"

But we damned beneath pray in wretched supplication just for an end,
To lives of stress and strain punctuated by grief, failure and loss,
Wondering in hope more diminished with each successive twist and bend,
Are the hard journeys to the arms of the Creator really worth the cost?

With health and beauty fast failing, the shining ones rail and mourn,
Lives so quickly faded, their plans for naught as well all aspiration,
Weary and disillusioned, we damned are from this life willingly shorn,
All transpiring whilst He who sits in the heavens has them in derision.

Learn more about this author, Clarence Lamberth.
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