Under sunlight’s kiss & moonshine’s tease

Stood there tall are abundant trees,

Their leaves blown side to side with faintest ease

By the all-seeing, ever-fluttering breeze.


But what scares me most, is not the wind,

It is not the thought of evil sin.

It is more the case of thoughtless minds

That whispering truths shall surely find.

More a case of what we’ll do

When the coolness of the breeze comes through,

Not the way that the branches shake

But more the way that the trunk does quake.


Wind – not force to be reckoned with

Only time conquers its wrath,

But who could dare forge such cruel beasts?

Who would dare cross their path?

Who could stand against the force,

Without being blown down?

The powers of the gale shall attack

Following the lead of whistling sound.


Howling, whistling – invisibility to its gain,

To stand against is futile, to do so is insane.

There are also other enemies: darkness & the rain,

But no other can quite match the intangible pain.

None can grasp the souls that dinned

After the turmoil caused by the wind.


Under sunshine’s kiss & moonshine’s tease

Stood there tall were abundant trees,

They were blown over with faintest ease

By the all-seeing, ever-fluttering breeze.

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