In quiet chambers of my brooding heart,
A lurking guilt murmurs, undefined;
Though I inquire, it does not depart,
A spectral woe that upon me dines.
To pathos drawn, like fungus to a tree,
Yet why this grief exists, I scarcely know;
Enshrouded in a self-made mystery,
I dwell imprisoned by an unjust glow.
But the key to lift this heavy veil
Resides not in the solace of my mind.
It is when for others' joy my efforts hail,
The fetid chains are left behind.
Thus, in the living for the spirit of thee,
I find the path that sets my soul free.
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