When all the church bells cease to toll,
And the ocean tides no longer roll,
When not one beast utters mere a sound,
And no compassion can be found,
When the marching drummer fails to play,
And no beacon remains to show the way,
When every breeze becomes right still,
And each soul relents to his Master's will,
When the whole of man stops in place,
And stares out into empty space,
When earth meets sky; no in-between,
Will be the moment all truth is seen.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 2:55 PM UTC
When all the church bells cease to toll,
And the ocean tides no longer roll,
When not one beast utters mere a sound,
And no compassion can be found,
When the marching drummer fails to play,
And no beacon remains to show the way,
When every breeze becomes right still,
And each soul relents to his Master's will,
When the whole of man stops in place,
And stares out into empty space,
When earth meets sky; no in-between,
Will be the moment all truth is seen.
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