Th’rdway along the journey of my life,
Resolved I am to stride, yet after strife.
It’s over Him I mull as I embark
On nameless path within a forest dark.
While many makers tried, most never rose;
Thus History was frugal when she chose.
The mighty pen is all my gear contains;
Will sound it strive where His stout sword all reigns?
The noble Wits will lead the western sides,
Whereas The Nine will rule the east as brides.
In sync compose for edify and regale,
But only He’ll decide if I shan’t fail.
‘I can’t go on, I’ll go on,’ says one gone;
I say this too, when facing The Unknown.