If all the world is trouble,
And everywhere I step
Seems some poor soul is suff’ring —
These things I can’t forget.
Within me stirs compassion
And tears do often fall,
But better still if I knew how
To answer action’s call.
It seems sometimes I’m in a dream
Where body cannot move —
The spur to action paralyzed,
Though there is much to do.
How did I end up in this fog
Of thick pea soup — so still?
Can’t speak, can’t shout — I don’t know why,
But truth will conquer still.
clarakatalin 
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