Cube of Thought

Why is light given to a soul that knoweth not its way; and
Why do I perish the plank?—for something burns—the
Clearest voice; and something churns, a fallen soul. I plead
The brain, and wash the soul; and still a plank: a burning
Coal; and what of Job, a perfect man: to die the spear—of
Satan’s hand; and dear my child, a sheep of life: confined to
Stress, the test of life; and silent green, a thresh of hate: the
Death of love: a stalwart gate; and phantom heard, the wings
Of pain: a legion fell—the grit of flame; and fathom life: the
Love of One: a field of trials: a ‘Wistic son; invite the heart,
A pale of grief: a soldier’s blood: the deepest peace; and
Thunderstruck, a fleet of geese: a demon rose: a biblic beast;
And precious swan: a vault of flame: the width of love: a
Father’s name.