I wished to offer all I had for pain.
To serve you is to suffer--I agree.
This walking in a fog of fruitless gain
Is ignorant and blissful--just like me.
I'm driven in the force of cleansing rain
And longing now to suffer and be free;
In sorrow which brings good out of your touch
I learn I never minded suffering much.
postscript
NaPo day three: an ottava rima. 2 Cor. 4:17.