All is mundane, a plethora of waste,
your pangs and pains, a melancholy taste.
For every burning eye, each tearful love,
words dry the soul, yet words are not enough.
They remain, and still remain untold.
When heaven came down, the Son came to mend;
he bore the pain, yet hell has no end.
Call to mind our sins, how temptation led
Adam and Eve, by the serpent fed,
expelled from Eden for a tree whose name
they could not know until they bore the blame.
Had they not known the fruit from the tree,
they would have stayed in Eden, wild and free.
So justified, we’re told, are God’s ways to men,
and so we ask, and ask, again.
Suffering fell that we might pray
for what will never fade away.
Lovers die, but love remains alive;
belief is made, but faith survives.
Stripped bare, we’re one; what sets us apart
is fear of being left, deep in the heart.
Almighty, tell me why you cannot see
the mess of mankind’s misery.
A deserted child weeps and sweeps the filth away;
the poor fight for bread from day to day;
the rich long for faces that won’t betray.
There are evils I cannot name,
yet we face them all the same.
For every burning eye, each tearful love,
words dry the soul, yet words are not enough.
They remain, and still remain untold.
