Life simply seems to cease sometimes,
turns dark, stands still, stays frozen.
We dread these difficult, dire days
when our zest for life becomes self-disgust
and grabs us by our despised throat,
spews spiteful charges against us and God.
What miracle, when even then
the light of love begins to shine
its quiet, tender flame on our dreary path.
Without this grace we would be lost forever,
in deep, dark dungeons of demonic despair,
the light in us and God destroyed.
By: Hermann Hesse
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