Heaven help us, we've lost control. This should be our finest hour. But we're racing towards the end of days. Pulling back from the brink despite our best efforts.
Deep is the longing in the heart that ever strives. The expanses far and wide that still confine. The simple facts that yet lay waiting to be found. As lost as some forgotten promised land.
The will to greatness clouds the mind. Consumes the senses, veils the signs. We each are meant to recognize. Redeeming graces cast aside. Enduring notions, new found promise.