“Without the dark, we would not be light. Every agony- does it bring the letter of ecstasy? As stones are shaped by the waves, For the sea, in motion, beats the stones, turning them into pebbles of stories of hardness and softness, How the swirl of sea, dulled the hardness, And now, though stones, they are, Yet tender remains, of ancient ages. We, too, are beaten in the pit of dark, Who wept in the valley for ages and ages, But now, a sun of light, an orb of gold.”