The burning brand of mortal stigma,
neither god and neither still
the cruel hand of life’s enigma
stinging rod, I’ve had my fill.
I’ve lived despairing, and unknowing,
eyes screwed shut as men who die,
marked with death, and slowly going
through the rut and through the lie.
Taking reason, I uncertain,
push it back and draw it near
Daring treason, rend the curtain,
loose the rack, and scatter fear.
Crown of glory now supernal,
blood and foam, I bear with pain
Until the trail of life eternal
Brings me home to thee again.
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