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The noble ones suffer,
While the devils prosper.
The ones who serve…
Make others happy,
Sacrifice their well-being;
For the good of others,
Are chosen by God,
To give trying tests in life.

They burn, they suffer,
And fail to see…
The cause for suffering,
And think, Why Me?
While the wicked enjoy,
A life of gluttony and bliss;
What did I do…
To deserve such pain?
Is it the result of past sins?
Bewildered they wonder.

Why is God so unjust?
To fill life’s path with thorns;
When evil ones have beds of roses?
God gently wipes a tear,
And says, ‘You are my soldier,
My warrior,  my hope.
You shall be endowed with power,
To restore the order of things.

These incidents are nothing
But attention seeking devices
To channelise you towards action,
Needed to restore faith.
You are my arms hand and feet;
Through you I work;
So that the world becomes,
A heavenly place to live…
For generations to come.
 
Do not give up…
Feel dejected, or hopeless.
Remember it is because,
Of noble ones like you,
That the world is worth living.
Wake up! And work for me!
When you come back;
It is you that I shall embrace,
With flowing tears and love.’