What woes I curse, what burdens I despise, Shall one day be the gifts my heart shall prize. The trials now that bend my weary frame, Shall fashion strength where once was only shame. The pain I flee, the sorrow I abhor, May yet become the key to wisdom’s door. For every tear that falls upon my cheek, Shall shape the words my wiser tongue shall speak. The foes I scorn, whose names I dare not say, May yet be those whose sins I cast away. For time, that thief, shall bid all hatred cease, And turn mine ire to love, my war to peace. The souls I shun, the hands I push aside, May one day be the ones for whom I bide. The echoes of their voices, lost in time, Shall call to me like bells in distant chime. The counsel spurned, the wisdom cast to dust, Shall be the very truth I learn to trust. For folly oft walks hand in hand with youth, Yet age, in time, restores the light of truth. Thus shall I find, when years have come and passed, That naught remains but lessons learned at last. And all I shunned, and all I cast away, Shall be the things I long for most one day.