This Land, a land for whom?

This Land stood proud, its heroes glorified

in every hamlet. Pleasant land untouched 

by foreign hand. Great tracts lay yet unknown.

In the midst of woodlands once unemployed,

lay pastures of Eden in emptiness.

Deep seas secured a splendid loneliness.

In This Land's heart one found in loneliness,

the courage of its armies, glorified

by victories many. The emptiness

of a nations evil left guilt untouched,

with a common conscience still unemployed,

in a land where slavery remained unknown.

The messenger prophets taught the unknown

shepherds, who flocked through vales of loneliness,

with time to concentrate an unemployed

mind on life in a land they glorified.

Summer sun's haze grazed lazy on untouched

expanse, lost deep in This Land's emptiness.

Houses of worship lie in emptiness,

history and culture ever more unknown.

Whilst all but fanatics remain untouched

by god, all the preachers fight loneliness,

as the flock deserts the fold. Glorified

profit has left the prophets unemployed.

The shepherd's land no longer unemployed,

with blind wisdom we banish emptiness

from sight, suburbanized in glorified

surroundings. Ourselves with thousands unknown

living together, lost in loneliness,

in a land whose spirit remains untouched.

Machinery of industry lies untouched,

its willing workforce paid an unemployed

wage. Sheltered children befriend loneliness,

old age leads to life filled with emptiness

in a land where neighbors remain unknown.

We ask what remains to be glorified?

So banish loneliness, and emptiness

of spirit unemployed, to the unknown,

until we stand untouched and glorified.