In finding worlds alone beside ourselves,
we startle at the deepened wounds of faith,
from lost due ways upon we’ll never dwell



what sorrows empty like a wounded wraith.

Ignoring now all beauty of the sky,
ourselves we praise without a second thought,
our selfish race lets every value die,
until our burning thirsts are sold and bought.

As every man falls blind to see the sun–
her golden rays now blocked by neon lights–
and we all fail to change what's left undone,
self satisfied white lies betray what’s right.

For fruitless deities we trade the Earth,
as emptiness grows ever into dearth.