In vistas vast where rivers rolled
And paper prayers were sweets they sold
With kindest care, they give a gold
Of wasted worth to crowds who cowered cold

In simple shirts and blanket bare
With hopeful hands and silent stares
With tired tears and dire dares
They bowed and begged to keep a coin of care

In cities sad, an island I
Where crashing crowds would leap to lie
But words are water, depth is dry
So days are drawn, I wait, and watch, but why?

In vistas veiled there’s mounting mist
And gone is good by careless kiss
The prayers are paid, and much is missed
Where sands have swept the treasures of our tribulation’s tryst


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