DILEMMA OF THE ALCHEMIST

The sun doth rise, the moon doth fall.
Our dreams decline, our hopes withal.
To meet the morn with spirit new,
My heart must ask a question true.

Revenge is not my course of fate,
the thing through which I must relate.
But is this path my only vice?
To give our blood? To pay our price?

Righteous goal of mine there is no doubt,
yet I shed more blood to all the rout?
I carve but death in search of life
To feed my soul, to kill my strife.

For all my sins I must atone.
To bring them back, or die alone.