To what degree of mildness does this life revolves?
How do you feel something that is not?
Empty and bare that share of your care.
How consuming, this world of heathen decree.
Free from all grasp of truth.
And what that soothes, you imagined.

Crying in distress, this dress, an unrest.
For all you know comes from that end
Where you see no sea nor sand.
Lies that flies now comes to decide
What is true.
Your existence of deceit.

What of the world you helped grow?
Some adjusted in sorrow.
While others try to overthrow.
Come stand with me you called
When asleep was the world.

The sum of all the falseness.
Gave us a world of divide.
Where is He in all of these?
Why all the silence?
Is He a practice, an imagined?