O’ father where art thou? In these troubled times, where the soul questions its virtues.
Is it all for naught? The past rears its ugly head, once again, once again.
Are we entitled to serenity? We lucky few, who justifiably deserve what’s owed to us. Are we to ponder our woes night and day, father?
Or have we deservedly been given what’s coming to us. But a matter of realization pending? O’ father, I’m scared of what’s to come. The path ahead is daunting.
Do we have it in us to move forward? We lucky few?