Edge

There was a little scary ghost
who did not reach the sky.
All kinds of fright he had to host
to be existing by.

One day, or rather dingy night,
he had enough of it.
He reached the sky as shining light.
On fire he was fit!

On fire he could not be damned.
On fire he was so
that he would say, a thing I am.
And that is way to go.

As burning, he reached sky as pride,
no longer weak and poor.
No longer he himself did hide.
It burned, his heart, his core.

And what we have to think about
is that, to be damned is
so that it really can make stout.
Reversal triggers this.

And every woman on the earth
should know that this is true.
As seen by man one will give birth,
not damned, though being true.