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.