Squeaky, creaky rocking chair
Grandma shyly shaking there
Wears a bun of silver hair

Knits a patterned dress to wear
Faded flowers everywhere
Wither 'way and thither there

To toss away life
Never ends this earth's strife
Rather, it just creates more
Though their time has not come
They still wish they be done
And they strive to meet death at its door

"End suff'ring!" they say
As they play Holy God
As if they all know better than He
And I wish they would find
Somewhere deep in their mind
The hope buried beneath misery

You would find this great hope
If you searched not this earth
But the whisper enveloping life
Which they cannot explain
Though they're racking their brains
And attributing all to their lies

They're deceitful and bitter
And faithless at best
They conceal the great truth that they've found
In our naivete,
We believe what they say
For we're sheep who have all gone astray

It's a fib we all buy
That to live is to die
So we search day and night for escape
But if your heart is pure,
You shall find your soul's cure
In the Life, in the Truth, in the Way

I revert back to a gleeful child
Where the grass grows wild in a meadow mild
With a crisp, clear stream where the sunlight beams
'Neath the silv'ry clouds like a hazy dream
And the does all frolic in this land bucolic
Where ev'ry searching soul belongs:
Within the hymn of Ireland's song

I feel its indubitable presence
Lurking beneath wispy shrouds of darkness
Drifting towards me from a path that begins
From the less traveled route which my footprints adorn
But I cannot run from my fate anymore
All I can do is stand still, lest I fall
Into the many unseen chasms of regret
And here again I find myself
Waiting, always waiting, fretting, dreading what may come
I retreat into the pitiable cloak of myself
Though its frivolous pretension fades away
Amalgamating with the wistful night air
And all that is left is a lone and fearful shadow
Of subsistence, no resistance lingers in my spirit now
As I feel the creature approaching me
I wade in the sea of its soulless eyes
A culmination of hopes and desires
Gone awry and heaved back to realities
Of envy, greed, and hopelessness
And now its hand of savage bleakness rests upon my face
Draining color from the cheeks once florid with new life
To where hath such vitality escaped?
And the flowers which wilt, and the meadows that burn...
Where are they now?
Must I die within my sleep to see those empty dreams sequestered?
And as my spirit falters, I am certain I shall see
That very place in not so distant times
As I whisper a reverberating goodbye
Leaving silence likely deafening the poor souls that may hear
The silence of the truth that could have been
As a dark new day emerges from the mist