No wonder Mother Earth is parched—
Wide salty seas rage and crash on shore,
Fields flood with mournful sighs,
Tired eyes deprived of good sleep.
Where are blessed wings of angels?
Where is justice for the poor?
As clouds shed uncried tears—
Only drops of morning dew get through.
I both want to know and am afraid to know.
Such answers reveal
No simple answer why so much seems wrong.
Grotesque how my heart still longs to love.
All answers are but stages of the Way.
For now I pray within great Unknowing Cloud,
Growing older, uncomprehending, wrinkling,
Dying without having explanation.