In the mist, I now look out before me.
The ground is trampled, raging mad.
There is no kindness here.
All the birds that once flew above me
were torn from their ravened sky
All the animals, big and small,
were torn from their ravished homes.
All the plants and trees
Were torn from their battered roots.
There is no kindness here.
As I stood amid the diminished land,
A lonely red rose stood underfoot.
Reflecting through my eyes,
Its frowned soft petals spoke in a distant voice.
A voice of love in a world of hate;
A voice of peace in a world of war;
A voice of safety in a world of danger;
A voice of serenity in a world of discontent.
There is no kindness here.
The rose hid closer into my soul. Afraid and Alone.
An ocean of sorrow swell my anguished eyes.
It was alone. All alone. And so am I.
No love.
No peace.
No safety.
No serenity.
Alone.
There is no kindness here.