A riddle in poem form.
To the mind aware a riddle I present,
The shape of which the heart has sent.
A clue in three do I send to you
That you might answer heart’s test true.
No harsh task this elusive prey
That warms the soul and lights the day.
Prepare yourself and gird your loin
That the battle eager you may enjoin!
To seek this treasure priced o’er all,
Flex your wit to secure its fall
Into the hands of those in need,
And to prove yourself adept indeed.
Now, come the night and black despair,
To sow the seeds of withered care,
Whose plant does sprout thorns of pain,
Which prick sore anguish in the brain.
What heart of light can secure from this
That brings to man dark wretchedness?
In this beginning might you see
The shape and form of your enemy,
That it steadfastly you may resist
By dint of which this riddle is sent.
Do you begin to sense the clue
In the verse that I have sent to you?
Do not despond, dear friend in this,
That the second of these clues not miss!
That which we seek comes close to grasp
Of blessed three tis next we ask.
To Corinth Paul did first sojourn
The elders there within to warn.
That unlucky number twice set down
To bring to fame a phrase renown.
That in the black and in the night
Of heart’s sad pain and love’s flight,
Man might see the answer clear
That dries the eye and heals the tear.
Have you yet sensed the might
Of simplest thought which hearts delight?
In this third of faint trails three
Open yourself and give free
The gift that reaches through the dark
For some sad soul which light depart.
In this the final turn of phrase
Surely you have seen the day
And sensed the answer all hearts seek,
Those tender, hurt, worn and weak,
That the blessed lady you might bestow,
She that is sweet, gentle Hope.