Wondering about it's destination
Concerns about it's source
Working to cause division
Weaking my inner self-force

A missile going toward a point
A wild wind blowing off my light
A voice corroding my joint
Dragging me far from being white

Having found a thorn in my flesh
An evil bird flies over my secured heart
Many a time it descends and perch
Soils my pure treasured soil

Having bricks laid up here
Fixing the me I want to see
The past draws me back there
And daints my hard-work

Give me a white mind
For this will be really kind
Surely the world is against my aim
They pound from every lane.