A lost people

an enslaved people,

acknowledge the pain

and see beyond.

 

In you,

Evil is here

Good is here,

the child is the last hope.

 

A lost people

without a home,

name the price

of solace’s sanctum.

 

A lost people we are,

who will lead us

to the Promised land?

see beyond the milk and honey.

 

Moses is not the meaning,

why tells the story beyond words,

a fellow being leading

in the time of need.

 

Milk flowed freely from mother’s breast,

the first shelter I knew.

Honeycombs filled during blossoming spring,

the sweetest hope I knew.

 

Ask Cain who

God’s people are,

acknowledge the pain

and see beyond.

 

My love is the breeze,

blowing in the chill of winter and

in the simmer of summer,

who praises it more?

 

My love is the prismatic glass of water,

full in the bravado of feast and

in the hand of the stranger along the dusty road,

who cherishes it more?

 

There is

no roof over my head,

no food in my stomach,

no warmth in my bones.

 

The people

have turned

every way

finding only death.

 

Evil is here,

Good is here,

the last hope is the child

in you.

 

Innocence

is untainted love,

I see the faint flicker,

come forth.

 

Fading light

shows the truest face,

you are my brother and

I am yours.

 

Timshel and little actions,

silence and long memories,

they easily slip away

with the tides of time.

 

Keep these at the forefront

and keep close,

find an anchor

any metal will do.

 

Seasons go

and humans flow,

who am I

to step in?

 

You are here,

I am here,

the only hope is every child

in me and you.