We walk as shadows in a world of light,
bearing within a hollow vast and deep,
a God-sized ache no treasure can make right,
no wisdom soothes, no pleasure lull to sleep.

It is the hunger carved before our birth,
the silent cry that stirs in all we do,
the longing sewn into the soil of earth,
the restless pull that draws us back to You.

We fashion idols out of dust and dream,
we pour out time on altars cold and bare,
yet still that emptiness, that quiet seam,
that chasm only You can heal is there.

O Lord, Creator, Breath of all that lives,
only Your presence fills what we have lost.
You are the gift the hollow ever gives,
the hole within, the shape that fits the Cross.