Our breath is no more than a puff of smoke
Our mind is nothing more than a spark
Thrown off by the beating of our heart
Vanish like the mist in the heat of the sun
Our time on Earth is like a passing shadow
Blaze out like fire in dry straw
The hope of ocean foam that disappears in the storm
Where lives are counted but as drops
Yet we were considered worthy to host the light
But with the casting of our crowns
And lifting of our hands
Not in praise of the giver
But to reach for the lustful power housed in a fruit
Light was made to contend with it's guard
And we were made to condescend
By the actions of our lifted hands
To...