Acts of Prayer
In solitude, the hermit prays
Floods wash over the dead
The stolen lives, lost days
He sees the broken thread
In darkness, the hermit prays
Bombs rend flesh to pieces
Reason flees at this malaise
He sees humanity's caprices
In daylight, the hermit prays
Famine grips an empty land
Swollen bellies give no praise
He sees the empty hand
In a crowd, the hermit prays
For justice at the end of days.
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