What if the criminals and pessimists can see
Something I cannot?
And I am wrong to love sunlight and liberty?
What if death is not the perfect sleep,
And day hides more than night,
And in the face of what’s correct we can only weep?
What if agony is the end of love,
And torture is the soul of you?
And I find you only beautiful
If you are true?
Awful language. Would it be better to hide the grail
Than let these miserable thoughts and words wail
In a mockery
Of wisdom writing poetry for eternity?
What if this doubt is the real doubt,
Not only in secret, but when the public finds it out?
What if the atheist is right?
And there is no wonder, or truth, or light?