On the other side of suffering there is peace
Whether by a death or such relief
I hate the moment when I start to fall.
Wish I lived inside a stoney wall
Through the foaming river we must go
And embrace the other we don’t want to know.
Inside a hermit’s cell there may be grace
And inside grace, an airy well lit space.
For me, it is the river and its deeps
I have to journey, even as I weep.
But, if for you, it is the tiny cell,
Therein your soul will comfortably dwell.
For different souls have different ways to take.
God is as generous as a the world he makes.
