In the gentle caress of this cross, may I find solace?
Shall this solitary white star abscond with my scars?
Can the night sky darken its obsidian hue further still?

Today admist my joy, lives fade into echoes.
How much more must this procession endure?
My eyes ablaze with a relentless fervor.
Afflicted souls scorch as time’s hands smolder.
Chasing fleeting warmth and respite with the demise of bygone days.

Divine caretaker,attend to your afflicted flock.
For they are withered and forlorn.
Their gazes strain, burdened by endless seeking.
Their tounges falter, recounting tales of your essence.
Take them gently, cradle then in hands of eternity,
Endow them with the undying flame of profound verity.