My castle behind

I am in exile. But all is not lost.

Two cups remain that can overfloweth, or not.

Three cups have spilled, and that's what I see

While on this island, my castle behind me.

My green cloak is dirty, my crown is askew

I ponder my loss, and I think about you

And the trees and the flowers, not blossomed in years

So why would it matter for any more tears?

Two cups are upright, behind me as one

But if I turn around I will see evil has won

Though if I look down at spilled cups only I'll see 

misery and loss that does now surround me.

Above too is foreign; while I've never been there

I've heard many stories of others who've shared.

They speak of peace and hope though it's hard to believe

When only devastation does surround me.

But above there's no ending, only my sight

Perhaps it is time to know that there might

be something beyond what eyes cannot see

Because perhaps consequence is not destiny.