Do you know the word of Hope?
I do, and I hurt myself so I may cope.
All that mattered is dead and decayed.
In this, I found the word of hope.
 
The Pit, the Gap, the Abyss.
The Lamb, the Lion, the Spirit.
These three things of six I can reminisce.
These six things of three makes my suffering a bliss.

Never does a living soul walk with these traits.
Their world is alien to them, it is strange to themselves.
For an alien trait, alien to itself; is a would be memory of a would be fate.
And is forever present on the Spirit’s clean, dead slate.
 
The paradox of all and none.
The Moirai wheel of fortune is spun.
An idea of us as one.
Did already end before it begun.
 
In this I find comfort.
In this I find will.
Yet only with pain I can cope.
For this is my word of Hope.