The world is loud, a messy place,
We hurry on with a hurried pace.
We build and break, we take and spend,
And often on ourselves depend.
The earth cries out, a wounded plea,
We turn away, we do not see.
A distant whisper, soft and low,
A love forgotten starts to go.
And God looks down, with a heavy heart,
To see his children drift apart.
A furrowed brow, a saddened sigh,
As love grows dim and seems to die.