All that man hath

Lord, I regret to disturb you.
There appears to be some mistake.
Your creation is either imperfect,
or perhaps you meant to partake.

For surely, you never intended
your children to wander thus far,
with naught but a promise to lead them.
You know not how tired we are.

We need nothing more than a whisper
to affirm that this path that we tread
is greater than all of the many
our feet could have suffered instead.

They once did evoke such peace, Lord,
those dreams of your golden Hall.
Now, but a vanishing silhouette
in the haze of all time we recall.

Your memory slowly eludes us,
and the sum of all doubts we suppress,
shadows the hope that you watch, Lord.
Should we cling to it nevertheless?

For what can we tell our children?
When embarking that fateful night,
there surely must have been something
our fathers mistook for a light?

Or was their mistake to follow
a deity they dared not refuse?
Then Lord, I regret to tell you
your sins are without excuse.

Our only fault was to trust you.
For that, we must all atone.
Ahead there awaits a desert
we all must wander alone.

I`ve struggled so much finishing this poem. It began as a vague idea more than a year ago. and since then I have never quite found the same inspiration as I had that evening. I am still not content with the final result, but at least I managed to write that last stanza.