A world of angels blind, with broken wings
and haloes traded for a crown of thorns,
is this existence, whose harsh endurance brings
such wealth of pain midst far off Heaven's horns.
Through inner growth our angel we redeem,
in increments of self-defining strife.
We toil to turn the churn to sip the cream,
and when at peace with truth, transcend this life.
Our souls must make a conscious quantum leap
from long exile in ego's lightless cage,
across a void of fear and sloth and sleep
to wake enlightened in a bright new age,
where still misfortune's claws prowl circumstance
but conscious love and will, give wings to chance.