I begin again, from the ashes still warm
Of a failure, foreseen and sure,
With hopes that now be of less firm form,
And answers be more satirical, obscure.

I was born to lose, to feign,
That all is well, to seem not a fool,
Yet find comfort in laughter’s vein,
Know you not, each rank needs its tool.

Aye, it is I, always I, so fraught
To seek the reasons and the blame,
To investigate who hath sought
To steal my gilded throne, my name.

I begin again, from the stained abyss
Of errors escaping in streams,
My morale only slightly amiss
As hopes ignite once more in dreams.

Marco Delrio

Failure

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