Consider now, this very night,  
the moon arrives to bathe the sight,  
For just a fleeting moment’s grace,  
his milky smile lights up the place.

And think behind him lies a sky,  
too vast for words, no bounds apply.  
Perhaps at this late hour’s height,  
someone might reach that endless light.  
And maybe now, as we stand still,  
a dreamer’s born with newfound will.  

Consider, too, your bread and wine,  
and woes on streets where shadows pine,  
for those without a roof or bed,  
who bury hope where virtue’s fled.

Remember some drink deep tonight,  
because their days can't find the light,  
while others laugh, though tears are near,  
yet hide their cracks from those too clear.

Consider, then, how quick we judge,  
and those who feel the torturer’s grudge.  
A bitter truth, this burning coal—  
forgive, I would not wound your soul.  
But swords and blades are counted now,  
and if but one is lost somehow,  
it just might save a life, a breath—  
someone spared a needless death—  
who sits among you in this town,  
by fate's hand hidden, not yet found.

If all these thoughts you take to heart,  
I’d tip my hat and play my part.  
But still I ask, still I plead:  
Should we love this world, indeed?  
Should we love it? Let’s agree:  
to try and love it patiently.