Too many wounds and not enough healing,
Too many clouds and too many tears,
Too many hurts and not enough comfort,
Too little to hope for too many years.
Too many games that no one is winning,
Too many heartaches and too many walls,
Too many hours with too many worries,
Too burdened the spirit; too distant the call.
The hills that are endless,
While evil, relentless,
Continues the tempest that freezes the soul,
And inside the spirit,
Where no one can hear it,
The balance draws near it: the sum of the whole.
Too many doubts for too many reasons,
Too many losses and not enough wins,
Too much disillusion, too great the injustice,
Too many times left alone on a limb.
Too much of anger and not enough kindness,
Too many feelings and no one to care,
Too many cries with no one to listen,
Too fragile the hope and too deep the despair.
No need to deny it
Or scurry to hide.
Rise and defy it: it clutches the soul.
Defeated and battered,
All dreams become scattered
And all that had mattered begins to let go.
Too many wails and not enough spirit,
Too much acceptance and not enough pride,
Too little thought and too much evasion,
Too many places to run and to hide.
Too many cynics that once had been dreamers,
Too little effort to walk or to fly,
Too many children who wait to be rescued,
Too many people just waiting to die.
Victims too willing
Watch all their blood spilling
The picture is chilling to see a soul die…
A pitiful story
That should have been glory–
A tender love story that challenged the sky!