The Lonely Figure

A lonely figure, bathed in light,
Is watching o'er the world today.
A diplomat of peace and love,
He reaches out, we turn away.

Beside the Towers as they fall,
Amid the dust and shattered dreams.
The fallen walk into the light;
He shuts his eyes but hears the screams.

As terror racks the Middle East,
He kisses the orphened child of war.
With practised ease he soothes her fear;
He's done this many times before.

At King's Cross station, terror strikes,
As Love and Joy lie deaf and mute.
The Gods of Death dance on the ash,
And laugh at freedom, resolute.

He watches hate and fear and greed
Spread through the world like a disease.
He listens saddly as we pray,
While Peace sinks slowly to her knees.

He asks us why we cannot trust,
He asks us wh we cannot learn.
We turn away, deaf to his pleas,
As underfoot the fires burn.

We search for someone else to blame;
The cycle of hate breeds hate in kind.
We kill our brothers, all for "peace",
And mock the peace we sought to find.

A lonely figure, light now dim,
Is watching in disgust today.
A blood-red tear rolls down his cheek;
He shakes his head and turns away.