Praying Without Participation

At times of greatest stress, we tend to regress
To the arms into which we were born.
This is the home that is in our heads,
The place to return to when we're down
It must be wonderful to have a peaceful childhood;
Those born to chaos seem to ever be at a loss.

We will never fully know what makes us who we are,
But to have peace in our souls from strong, loving arms
Can forever be our bit of heaven on earth.
Is it ever too late to intervene and turn the tide of destiny?
It seems that unless we surrender our souls
We're doomed to relive the hells of our forgotten pasts.

But who can we trust to enter our hearts
Without taking our souls as their  playthings?
So many want to control other souls
Instead of controlling their own passion and pain.
And others want to enter broken hearts
Only to fill them with their own suffering.

Is there really any hope for those who let nobody hold them,
Except to make more generations to carry on their pain?
How fortunate are those of us who finally find a soul mate
But what of others who only find those with whom to run away?
Where is the "Christian kindness" in all the easy answers?
Praying without participation makes nobody whole again.