How come this light reveals none of its source and nature, as it guides the thirsty through lands of drought to new springs?
In purest suffering lies purest insight
A faint gleam of bottomless perdition
Many are called yet none will be chosen
Cold sun shines upon their wanderings
How come the voice of a shining angel is silent and feeble, as it sings the radiant glory and splendor of high heavens?
From scorched foundations to ashen havens
From withered temples to vacant thrones
In glacial wastes, beneath empty skies, a monument of decay stands tall amidst ruin
Scorn and abhorrence. Virtue is a farce
The shepherd spits at its flock
There comes the only revelation - a mocking laughter of the fellow fallen
In purest suffering lies purest insight
A faint gleam of bottomless perdition
Many are called yet none will be chosen
Cold sun shines upon their wanderings
How come the lord delights in transience, as we perish and fade in mere presence of his light?
How come these springs to ease our thirst flow with the tears of our beloved?