Where are the dreamers?

A world of hurt is crying out
For urgent intervention,
A hand divine to reach and touch
And point a new direction.

Where is the vision, where to go
To bring about God's plan?
There is no sense of moving on
But rather, please the man!

The one who weeps, weeps on alone,
The hurt are left to die;
The lonely keep their solitude -
Yet few are asking why?

The problem is not mine, you say,
I didn't make it so.
I didn't ask their help, so why
Would they expect me to.

And so we battle on in life,
In selfish isolation:
The poor remain in dire straits,
The rich hold to their station.

Old men no longer dream their dreams
Nor young men see their visions;
They only stare out into space,
Or at their televisions.