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There was a leader who wasn't a leader,
In a world that wasn't a world;
There was a law that wasn't a law,
In a building that wasn't a building.

And in this building there was a tradition,
Built from tears and the suffering of many;
And beneath the building its stone would subside,
And in the silence the air would sing free.

There was a wind that wasn't a wind,
Across a land that wasn't a land;
there was a trade that wasn't a trade,
That caused the poor and the crime of the world.

And in this world a good man was nothing,
Who never had power, no voice to be heard;
The corrupt had the gold, the influence to control,
And the poor remained poor, hoping through prayer.

In their despair, they asked for release,
From a misery as old as the dust;
And every face that turned from the sun,
Beheld the shadow that saddened its heart.

And every age that wasn't an age,
Became a passing, just like a dream;
And all the changes that needed to be,
were failed by leaders who claimed to be kings.

 

Written by Mark Woollacott
11:05am-11:25am Thursday 21st May 2009.