After a Lightning Strike

How can you not look to the sky & wonder why
When it seems clear & there is nothing to fear
Your box reports that 2 lie dead on the water's edge
While others have fun in the sun
You have to question the One
As to what's been done
'Cause everything's not alright
After a lightning strike

My faith seems to rest
On nothing less
Than contradiction
Which seems stranger than fiction
Especially when the weight of my diction
Tips the scales of decision
For the unappreciated soul over which I proclaim ownership
Rather than allowing the Soul to equip

I love & hate the life that I lead
Knowing partially that it's not what I perceive
But seeing through the glass dim
My hope waxes & then grows slim
Never maintaining a consistent state
Always convoluting & fluctuates
Not directly linked to mood or situation
Rather to my spiritual edification

How to build that, not of human hands
Like trying to count the granules of sand
A seemingly impossible task
Leaves 1 gasping & willing to grasp
The shell of the being they're supposed to be
After all who else can or cares to see
All that the Master has made of me
When again they can only themselves dimly see

So once again peer to the sky
And ask the questions & wonder why
Many lie dead by the water's edge
Ask them only if you really care to know
'Cause it seems that we all only grow
To one day succumb
As we quickly grow dumb to why nothing remains right
Perhaps our answers await us there...after the lightning strikes