Some Are Picked for Pleasure, Some for Pain

Some lose limbs or sanity or joy,
Stranded on the road from birth to death;
Some find all the world in their employ,
Riding through rich fields, the lords of breath.

But all are souls, and therefore lost at sea,
Lost, lost, and drowning in eternal grace;
And all must suffer the same agony
And vanish into time without a trace.

And all are loved, and lavished well with love,
And live within a love serene and good.
Fate may cruel or expeditious prove,
Yet one may dwell in glory if one would.