It matters not
where I wander,
nor which road I tread—
I find no peace.

I call to You,
my Lord… my Lord…
Where are You?
Yet the heavens remain still.

And it matters not
what gold I gather,
nor whose hand I hold—
I feel so hollow.

Once more I cry,
my Lord… my Lord…
Where are You?
But again, heaven is mute.

Long I journeyed—
faithful in seeking.
I scanned each horizon,
knocked at every door.

Until at last,
with nowhere left to run,
and nothing left to reach,
I fell—
into the fire of despair.

So I turned—
not outward,
but inward.

Into the silence I once feared,
I sank.

There,
alone in stillness,
I met the depth of my own soul.
I laid down all searching—
and realised—
You’d been here all along.

My Lord… my Lord…