Prelude to a Cantata about Santo Pio

Life was harsh
For no reason
Like a marsh
In the wrong season

So growth 
Was stubbled
Youth
Was humbled

But cards
In a deck
Pointed towards
A speck

Which grew
In extremities
None knew
Eventual amenities

So lets 
Go back
To earliest sets
To track

How 
He found 
A path now
Spiritually sound

Deleting reality
But bearing its load
Led by spirituality
On a futuristic road