THE WORLD’S PLIGHT

The world is but a small place for love,

Yet her inhabitants find so much space for hate!

Her ears are going deaf from the endless noise

Generated from the empty vessels of meaningless words,

Profanities uttered without a cringe,

Unfounded quarrels, insatiable gossips and loud lustful lyrics.

Her stomach would rather that it be filled with souls who had served time

Living purpose, unleashing potentials

And as such are due for departure;

Yet the sands of her belly is the sepulchre for

unrealized dreams cut short by avarice,

Innocence sacrificed for the sake of the propagation of corruption,

Happy souls exchanged for terminally sad ones.

Her outstretched hands longing for salvation

is severed by mankind’s longing for damnation.

Her wailing voice of pain for her lost occupants

Is drowned in the sea of vanity upon which they swim!

Her mouth is agape as her eyes behold the sensational terror,

The glorified filth, the glamorous edifice of self the children

of this age are glad to be clad with.

There is but little good.

There is a God professed by many lips, known by few hearts;

An openly renounced but closely embraced evil,

An altar built to extol self, the new god of mankind.

And so in excruciating torment she weeps.

She weeps for love, the one antidote to her misery

Snatched up in deep abysmal hate in which mankind

with freedom plunges.

 

 

 

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