In these times of terror and torment,

Where blood is spilled for no reason,

Our good Earth is despoiled,

Raped and plundered, of its very essence,

Sucked dry of any hope of regeneration,

All that remains, is an ever-spinning orb,

As love and trust are cast out,

From hearts and minds

And the soul is torn from the body,

To drift in endless purgatory,

Awaiting the spark,

One small spark,

To awaken the slumbering power,

Of all that we once held dear.