Book of Gone vi

vi

This gift of a scar,

this earthly woe that

has been my inheritance 

I shall not squander this

to the winds 

I shall not let it pass, as

lightning crackles 

through the night 

I will cherish the humble

hell cast upon me, so

that - in your name - 

I can hold the hands

of those the same 

Equally afflicted 

We will find hope,

carrying our neighbour's

chains