A Ray of Hope

Long it has lain, needed by no one,
All avoid the neglected thing,
Disgusting to itself in a foreign world —
Light surrounds it, and inside is night.

Only a little ray of hope of lasting till tomorrow
From day to day warms, adds meaning.
“They will still call me,” the mantra sustains,
“They will yet duly value my service.”

For every good a buyer will be found,
Wood not fully pressed — anthracite.
Even if a million renounce you,
For someone you are in short supply.