The sun looks beaming, but casts its shadows;
One never knows all why or all for every why
Summing up the bitterness that climbs up each little gut
The envy and the hate, the sense of no way around
And when all these draw nigh and ring; the scream, an ample ding
To yell for help and leave the rest, and expect all’ll be well
It comes like the wind, rushing through the door, like angry waves hitting the sand
As though it had done it harm, or caused it pain.
It happens severally; oh the wish to vanish
Or perhaps clone oneself; every you for every it.
Bu this even makes it tougher, as tougher trials stand
They stand in zest, to yank your chest, to put you to the test.
Indeed that’s what they are there for, to bring out gold from brass
Who told them that in everything, one ought to make out gold?
Leave the dust, for brown it is, and never could be white
So it is, so it was made, you churn your silent sack
For dust is brown and grass is green, and you are who you are
None is you and you are none, and that’s just how it is
It gets so slimy, climbing slime; it gets so rocky, climbing rocks
It gets so prickly, playing with prickles, and cold beneath the ice
It gets so smelly, touching carcass, so dirty with the dung
So un-Santa when the heart leaps out, but jumps back with a bump
Too yellow an earth to stay in, too slimy for the climb
Too achy to get the feet on, the feet upon oneself.