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Arise, Awake, Fresh Sounds of Hope
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When there's hope in believing,
then so I find I must believe;
In truth that is self-evident and
honesty that is constantly weaving
through the fabric of life.
Homespun theories do not appease,
for they may be constructed
of crawling festering greed.
Threads of lies may be disguised
as wisdom painted black.
Instead I fondle spinning folds
of brightly created illusions
Which sustains when all else fails.
In pieces of tattered rope
lies the shattered promises
of serenity made and deployed.
There are waves of voices screaming
for solutions made in mankind.
Yet nothing is resolved by hate,
for this is the truth I find.
Where hope grows in splendour,
an unborn faith waits to arrive.
In depths of mystic chanting words
Let me be in the books that say
the truth arrives from ;
Where God plants His eternal wisdom
as I herald the signs of treasured love.
Arise, awake, fresh sounds of hope,
let the gentle peace begin to grow.
