The birds sing as would the sun set.
For though your tear bags are dry,
An ocean of sorrow flood thy coast,
For though life around you has become
A fiery trial; with each lap more blazing,
Weep only, my eyes.
For still the light you see,
Even as the night steals it too quickly.
For though life is unfair
And the whirligig of time keeps
Unwinding and repeating the same mishaps of the past.
For though dust we are,
The wind blows us up yonder
to a land of starry skies and white lilies.
Weep only, my heart
« return.