life is a mystery.

Like birds of the air that flys high;

like twigs that dance to dictates of the whirlwind,

life is a mystery of it's kind,

an echo, oft° uncontrolled, to which we only can sigh.

We cry and wipe the tears,

like drizzles from a light cloud,

that wets the earth only to be dried out aloud,

Alike, the whistling wind will whistle away our fears.

Chesrish solitude under the fecund moon,

listen to the echo of the glowing stars

they unite us in love and erase our scars

to redeem our souls, and relight our spirits soon.

Again, as the dark cloud gathers, stand under the rain,

and wash away salty tears and the pain.

©Bunguswa.™