Pangloss

Your soul feels black and blue,
From evil’s daily beating,
Your pain no one’s concern,
Like a hare the wolf is chasing.

Your road but trips and falls,
Into depths of dark despair,
Each seems to be life’s reckoning,
Your wrongs to be declared.

You must suffer this life of storms,
With Panglossian view of hope,
Accept with cheer what happens,
For the lies no more than trope.

Like Candide, reject this torture,
Of successive ocean waves,
Embrace a good God’s plan,
And his spirit forever brave.