Lovely is your care, O, Lord!
Lovely your skill of Art.
You in moments of ecstasy
Have envisioned this trancy world
And in fits of anger
Have poured poison that
Flows in here
Killing the innocent
Like a venus trap.

Where is, O God! Justice here
Where the devotee of virtue
Is suckled in to an in famished hunger
Of startling suspect!

And where blind folded is the
Dispenser of justice!

If muteness is ignorance here, O Lord!
Goodness the ways of a novice
O God, Is it not foolish to pray you
And adore your joyous creation?

For death is far more comforting
Than the fortune of life that flows here
Infected by death Syndrome
Constantly – concealed.