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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