There is always hope,
though we often sway,
caught in the tempest,
the only remedy is to pray.
Forgive our trespasses,
giants of steel,
piercing the earth,
no steward are we.
Ravaged lands,
children lost,
endless confrontation,
deceptive use of the cross.
Forgive us,
we know not what we do,
this has ever been the truth,
we are all hopeless without trust.
But,
in this wasteland there is love,
hope for a better tomorrow,
idealism going above.
There is always hope,
despite the torrent of decay,
the sun peaks over the clouds,
at the end of the day.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
There is always hope,
though we often sway,
caught in the tempest,
the only remedy is to pray.
Forgive our trespasses,
giants of steel,
piercing the earth,
no steward are we.
Ravaged lands,
children lost,
endless confrontation,
deceptive use of the cross.
Forgive us,
we know not what we do,
this has ever been the truth,
we are all hopeless without trust.
But,
in this wasteland there is love,
hope for a better tomorrow,
idealism going above.
There is always hope,
despite the torrent of decay,
the sun peaks over the clouds,
at the end of the day.
A.P. Beckstead (2013)
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