I Want To Reconcile Myself With Heaven,

I Was Modest--they Accused Me Of Being Crafty: I Became Secretive. I Felt Deeply Good And Evil--nobody Caressed Me, Everybody Offended Me: I Became Rancorous. I Was Gloomy--other Children Were Merry And Talkative. I Felt Myself Superior To Them--but Was Considered Inferior: I Became Envious. I Was Ready To Love The Whole World--none Understood Me: And I Learned To Hate.

Afraid Of Decision, I Buried My Finer Feelings In The Depths Of My Heart And They Died There.

In People's Eyes I Readpages Of Malice And Sin.

Many A Calm River Begins As A Turbulent Waterfall, Yet None Hurtles And Foams All The Way To The Sea.

I Want To Reconcile Myself With Heaven, I Want To Love, I Want To Pray, I Want To Believe In Good.