Do you feel the holy pain
scratching at your heart?
With a hard, rasping finger —
He beckons you.

It needles — till we beg for more —
it sounds the lovers’ wail,
who crucify their hearts
for a taste of Resurrection.

So pass round the cup!
full and bittersweet,
regaling us with tales
till we lose our trepidation.

For each is a wanderer
on this trail of night;
and painful to the eye
are its first rays of Light.