Lord, l am an empty  clay,

You fill with grace my every day.

You gave not all for which i pled,

But gave me l need instead.

Lord, l am an empty clay,

I cried at birth- You breathed my way.

L've walked the road You set for me,

And You will claim my breath to be.

Lord, l am  an empty clay,

You gave me strength to face the fray.

You broke my night with  holy light

That faith may keep my soul upright.

Lord, l am an empty clay,

You gave a heart tgat feels, can pray.

I fight for life with spirit brave,

Yet still can weep- a child You gave.

Lord, l am  an empty clay,

Its size and depth You know today.

How far l go, how nuch l bear,

Is Yours to choose, Your will to share.

Lord,l aman emlty clay,

Whete masks surround in sad  array.

I've burned in wrath, stayed mute in pain,

Fallen- yet l rose again.

Lord, l am empty clay,

I lived, l live, l will alway.

You gave not all for which l pled,

But gave me what l need instead.

Here stands the sign,the mark of crosses,

An altar cries- the land of losses.

Those who strayed have stolen  light,

And tumed the crosses into night.

Here is the purgatory's weeping flame,

The cry if crosses calls your nane.

Birds lie crucifield, as signs above

The land is  sealed in blood and love.

The whips  are near, the rocks, the deep,

Yet orphaned Armenia does  not sleep.

She waits the Crucified to rise,

She looks ahead with tearful eyes.

No scythe of death can make her fall,

Nor murderers who heard the call

To slaughter souls and genocide-

Her spirit lives, she will abide.

The worm-out cries, the  talking pain,

The blood- stained fields that still remain.

Our mountains crucified still stand,

Our meadows crossed by fate's own hand.

They drink the tears of Noah's grief,

And pray for dawn, for some relief.

Here stand the  altars, stones that  weep,

Here lies the cross, the memory deep.

Crucified hearts, crucified souls,

Yet Arnenia stands- unbroken, whole.

A melody of stone that never dies,

A song of crosses beneath the skies.

I’m a little hard to understand,

I need some love, a gentle hand.

I’m a little hard to comprehend,

I need the sun, its warmth to lend.

I’m a little hard to really know,

I need the stars, their honest glow.

I’m a little hard to see inside,

I need your trust, with none to hide.

I’m a little hard, yet I believe,

In loyal hands that never leave.

I’m a little hard, I must confess,

I need devotion’s holiness.

I’m a little hard, my soul’s a child,

It screams for innocence — so wild.

I’m a little hard, I still demand,

Rusty weapons laid to peace by hand.

I’m a little hard, but if you dare,

It takes self-sacrifice to stare.

I’m a little hard, yet sudden fire,

A touch of madness I require.

I’m a little hard, but still I pray,

For God to bless me on my way.

I’m a little hard — yet understand,

To be Armenian takes strength to stand.

Be like the weather, calm and free,

Love or hate – it cares not, see.

Be like a snowflake, light and rare,

He laughs or cries – you need not care.

Embrace the bloom, breathe in its air,

Its scent is sweet – yet none compare.

Be summer’s heat, so wild, so bright,

It knows no evil, fears no night.

Like autumn leaves, just dance and fly,

No need to turn or ask them why.

Be like the road that winds away,

That flows in silence, night and day.

Be like the stream, the cricket’s song,

An eagle proud, the sea so strong.

Be like the time, eternity,

Both king and slave – just dare to be.

In the silence divine, a lone cry takes flight,

Blood on the cross stirs a storm through the night.

Christ bore His pain so mankind could see,

That life must be love, not war endlessly.

Dignity shines as the soul’s steadfast shield,

No thief can take what the heart has sealed.

When faith is our strength, inner light will arise,

And man finds rebirth from the tears in his eyes.

War is but hell armed with weapons of fire,

Peace is the future our children require.

We’re called to create, to show mercy, to sing,

So joy may be woven in each gift we bring.

Reach out to your brother—his pain will grow light,

Speak words born of love—and the heavens turn bright.

True joy never lingers in hands that just hold,

It shines in the eyes of the hearts you’ve consoled.

We must grow in spirit, let thought take its flight,

To cleanse the world from its cruel, senseless night.

And only then will all wars truly cease,

When man, in God’s image, is weaving His peace.

֊֊֊֊֊֊֊

I write from the darkness that covered a body forlorn,

That mingled with brothers’ hot blood and tears they had borne.

My silence now cries from the shadows of night,

That peace may arise, turning darkness to light.

In Armenia’s paradise crosses eternally rise,

While endless grief lingers in mothers’ black eyes.

O silent world, hear me — my nation for years,

Has carried its losses through anguish and tears.

Through genocide’s fire, through ruin and pain,

We endured as human, our soul’s light remained.

I beg you, O nations, for the sake of your kin,

Let the only true war be the war against sin.

Let weapons fall silent, let cannons turn stone,

Let builders and writers create of their own.

Let words form the bridges that bind, not divide,

So children’s pure laughter may ever abide.

I am a soldier long lost, yet my young heart won’t die,

From my unseen tears fresh seedlings will rise.

My silence still cries from death’s shadowed gloom,

That peace may be born and the whole world illume.