NaPoWriMo Day Five

A simple terza rima sonnet for a simple truth:

The Hope of Joy

I asked you why I suffered such and such.
It matters not the means; it’s all the same
To suffer little and to suffer much.

For both bespeak a dying world’s worst shame–
That goodness won’t prevail in every sense.
Why won’t you rescue us, defend your name?

For suffering can happen, be dispensed
On good and bad alike–from young to aged.
And will you not speak out in your defense?

You answer that the war’s already waged,
And yours the suffering most of all mankind.
The worst, the gates of death, have been assuaged.

In light of what you suffered, I am free,
And love has wrought the hope of joy in me.

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