Seeing, seeing, what do I see—

To believe? Oh!—but to believe

In something more than material greed.

The pen with which I seek to write

Does little more for those who cannot

Help but lose their sight.

They’re far away in some distant

Land; they’re in our backyards, alone

And abandon—sitting quietly

With some crackers to nibble.

We sit and we sit, sit, sit!

To talk, to complain, to bemoan,

And to criticize, to attack.

The Men at the Top complain of misuse

When they go out and stop the abuse.

Sitting, standing, debating, is that all

We’re good for? To attack who have

So little in store? To change, to change,

Is all I would want to see. To 

See more helping hands instead 

Of reaching for the green. Let’s

Take up some arms and grab our

Tools, let’s get to work and feed

Their mouths instead of sitting on stools.

A day is brighter when we choose

To give aid to our brothers and sisters;

Let’s start now and show what

It means to be a true disciple again.