When night is dark and full of terrors
When you are alone with your errors
When all will and strength have long vanished
And you are all but tired and famished
Broken into a million pieces
Ended by a somber world of pain
And pressure that always increases
When you missed the passage of the train
And must walk alone a thousand miles
Then your salvation becomes those smiles
No matter who they are or must be
Of the world-bush, they are the berry.
Probably a bit too short, rough and incomprehensible but heartfelt. At the image of the muse.