Saddled with confusion and burdened by the stone,
Perplexed in hectic wonderings,
He struggles on alone.
Striving for the greater height, in everlasting pain,
He staggers on to win what's right, till
War seeks peace again.
Precedence and melancholy fill his tempered mind.
Ambition serves a bitter fare to those he's
Left behind.
His everlasting struggle is waged both night and day.
And in its wake his passions thrive,
Till both are swept away.
Then risen by this sacrament, cast upon
The plain, death and honor are enthroned,
Anointed in the rain.
So evermore the search goes on, as righteousness
Is sought, and should they fail to reap its yield,
His sacrifice is naught.