A morning star at dawn rises in the East.
It’s a new star, lighting up the silent sky,
igniting faded light in people’s hearts.
So they’re no longer lonely or in the dark.
But only you lie asleep in the night,
you can’t hear the sound or see the light,
unable to notice something’s beginning—
that there’s a new age, heaven and earth coming.
For your “father” says it’s early and cold outside,
if you go out there, the sword will pierce your eyes.
You believe what your father says to you,
since he’s older and truly loves you.
Such love and advice make you deny there’s light.
You don’t care whether there’s truth in the world.
You don’t hope for the Almighty to come save you,
or hope to see the light, content with status quo.
In your eyes, beautiful things can’t exist;
man’s tomorrow and future is doomed, disappears.
You hold father tight, glad to suffer with him,
fearing you’ll lose your journey’s partner and direction.
This vast hazy world has made many like you,
unflinching, dauntless in their different roles.
It formed many “warriors” who don’t fear death,
many numb humans who don’t know why they were made.
God looks at the very afflicted mankind.
He hears the wailing of suffering ones;
He sees how shameless they seem, feels their helplessness,
feels their terror at having lost salvation.
Man rejects His care, His watching, goes their way.
They’d rather taste the bitter sea with the foe.
God’s sigh can’t be heard, His hands now won’t touch man.
He regains and loses time and time again.
He then grows weary and stops His work.
He no longer wanders among the people.
They can’t see these changes, His coming and going,
or His deep sorrow; God’s sighing, God’s sighing.
Adapted from “The Sighing of the Almighty” in The Word Appears in the Flesh