the mournful sight

Oh, what a mournful sight it is,
To see a mockingbird fall from a tree,
When all it ever wanted to do was sing.

Oh, what a mournful sight it is,
To see a whale harpooned to the cold and dark seabed,
When all it ever wanted to do was raise it’s young.

Oh, what a mournful sight,
To see a tree felled ruthlessly to the ground,
When all it ever wanted to do was grow.

Oh, what a mournful sight it is,
To see a wasp trapped and killed needlessly,
When it was only going about its daily business.

Oh, what a mournful sight it is,
To see the most delicate of flowers rendered unattractive,
Merely for being the wrong kind of beautiful.

Oh, what a mournful sight it is,
To see the cross burned,
When all it wanted to do was spread Gods love.

So world which has gone astray, take heed,
For what a mournful sight it is to see a candle,
A single bastion of light, flickering in a sea of darkness,

Extinguished.


When all it ever wanted to do was bring hope