Pray to god and the heavens for my peace and hope.
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In the hallowed halls of yesteryear,
Where whispers of faith did softly play,
My heart did pine, in silent cheer,
For thee, my love, to gently sway.
Yet the era's hand has cruelly turned,
To a realm where doubt does loudly call,
Where nonfaith souls, their voices burned,
And hearts once whole, to ash do fall.
Through moonlit nights, in quiet prayer,
I've offered up this love of mine,
To the heavens, in hope so fair,
To find a home that's truly thine.
But the winds of change, they do not care,
For the hearts that long for steadfast hold.
They whisper tales of those who dare
To love without the stories old.
The question lingers, soft and stark,
In every tear that falls like rain,
Who'll gather up the broken shards?
Who'll heal the wounds that never wane?
A ballad sung in tones so low,
For hearts that dance between the light and dark,
Where shadows play upon the snow,
And love must seek a new embark.
The stars above, though bright and clear,
Can't mend the cracks that doubt hath wrought,
And so, my dear, with trembling fear,
I face a future, unsure and fraught.
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