When I think of time
and the forces moving me,
from the dawning of creation...
to the dusk of death, I see.
All the lives been lived,
the historys made,
the graves been dug in vain.
I cry my God,
why am I here,?
how do I ease this pain.
Of meaningless, of helplessness,
this emptyness,
I feel,
lost in space, a losing race,
I need to know you're real.
A living God, a referance point,
a meaning and a hope.
Because I'm part of this creation.
Its groaning and its grope.
Romans 8 v 19-23
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