Who ????

Africa toils with dying eyes, I weep on the mountain top. And sing to their dead, tender lullabyes, At the moment that their hearts stop. WHO? you shriek, though theres no reply. You aren't the first to plead, But why? Jeruesalem's dusty roads echo with prayer, But alas, they seek me vainly there. Some claim to know me well, but they've mistook. My infinate being, for words in a book. Words creation will continue to speak, Reguardless of the day of the week. I made you the gift of lonliness and pain, That you might find, loves not in vain. Who comforts the grieving as they weep? Who makes the concience known? Who shall abide with you, when comes the sleep? That all must face alone. Who spoke all things that be, with a word? In whom is grace and joy Assured? Why do they rage, against vain things? While refusing the hope that obedience brings? All mortal things will surely pass. Their furies, but a sounding brass. The sound and fury meaning naught, Returns to nothing, as it ought. Who, they ask will bear this weight? Who? they ask, controls my fate. The freshest breeze of the holy land, Blows alike unto all men. Who holds creation in his hand? Whose creatures have we been? Africa turns with bitter heart, Upon itself to tear apart, with guns and chains and homemade blades, The coming death of pandemic aids. Gaunt childrens swollen bellies ache. Some one CARE for heaven sake. A cruise missles a million meals. What use are all the high ideals, Of mom and home and apple pie? If we can watch a continent die. Who, we ask dare be our foe? Our cause is truly just. The richs that we cherish so, shall like us, one day be dust.The light that shone on ancient Rome, Is the same that shines on you. I pray the light shall lead you home. I beg of you, ask WHO. Written February 28th, 2002 © on Feb 28 2002 02:21 AM PST, Patric Patterson    18 • 0 • 1