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Of Scars and Soil


Many things I have seen under the sun
All is vanity, a chasing after the wind, a chasing after nothing
There is a time for all things under Heaven
A time for birth and for death
A time to speak and to be still
I scrape myself with the dried earth
The shards of clay from my broken dreams
My skin festers with boils
As I sit in silence, I rip open my clothes and uncover my heart, see whats down inside
Of scars and soil we are made
And in our suffering we claim, an innocence alien to all of man
And what have we to boast, we are tragic at most
An object of wrath but His mercy remains

Of scars and soil we are made
The fire will cleanse all our pain
Of scars and soil we are made
Of pain and toil is our claim

(Then Job opened his mouth, and he cursed the day of his birth)

Why should not the day perish on which I was born, and the night which said a boy is conceived
May that day be darkness, do not let the light shine upon it
Let the darkness and the black gloom claim it
Let a cloud settle on it
Let the blackness of the day terrify it, as for that night, let the blackness seize it
Let it not come among the days of the year
Let it not come into the months
Behold! Let that night be barren
Let no joyful shout enter it
Let those who curse, curse it

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