A Crisis of Faith

A bloody Sunday, a red sunrise and a drop of mud,

Different paths leading to unknown destinations but,

Where lies my home, and why can't I see?

The place meant for you and me?

The very ground our feet touches are not ours,

And yet work is to be done within the hour.

What is the meaning of my existence then?

I think its the free will, to cry, to smile, to laugh,

Therein lies freedom, therein lies liberty,

And thats where lies the very cause of existence,

The greatest gift God gave us, the freedom to choose.

But even in that a dice was played,

That not all hands will draw the same straw,

With free will comes luck and despair,

That while my world hides in a beautiful shade,

Other's world burns, with no end in sight.

Who is to say of the actor who didn't play his part,

If he may ever get his due,

While cowards get to dream and wonder,

Of the bright morning dew.