We live, we search and struggle, we seek to improve;
we hold up candles and rejoice in their lights,
but by-and-by something nags, all is not right.
Our candles seem dim as we exert them with our might;
these candles are good, but are darkness compared,
to the object of the soul and the emptiness there.
Some bask in their light, satisfied therewith;
but this will not be my end, all these depart;
their goodness pales with what I know is in store,
to those who will seek for more.