Left to the cold; the volcano erupts,
Oh Anger, what have you done?
Or was it Hurt that had all the fun?
In hope of the clouds’ cleansing tears,
I am hidden in the grey ashes of aftermath.
Come quick, revive my paralyzed heart.
For it is only your embrace that will remedy.
Barren lands and scarred trees,
They await rebirth through Love’s healing caress,
But as the old saint sings, our Patience is key.
Shanawaz
