Forlorn answers

Like many hives of bees floating
My thoughts within are roaming,
Endless questions are arising
Yet my wits are flailing, failing.

Why is a children’s song dying
When all around is shining, smiling.
Why are the petals fading,
When the flower is still blooming?

I see mothers holding the children weary,
People crying and heavy tears falling
Despairing, as the world becomes so dreary,
Still the answers are so bleak and uncaring.

Shall we find a final place for resting,
Or keep the darkness at bay
That keeps coming to rob and to steal
Our last spark of humanity, sanity?

Truly there must be some love
Still bringing joy and thrills
To the endless misery I feel around
Of the people’s forsaken hopes.


Never shall I find the answers
For I have forever known or,
It is the Lord Weaver weaving me
Inside the pattern of the great loom?