Empty waters never change the drought,
when the sun is still shining to bright.
Houses burn in devastating fires,
as paddy fields drown the last rice harvest.
We cannot see what we don’t acknowledge,
yet how can blind eyes see in clear day light?
Questions ask themselves questions,
about subjects that already told the answers.
When ears cannot hear the ringing sirens,
how can the heart hear the voice of God?
Aren’t the angels begging for understanding?
Isn’t the Spirit calling us into the light?
As the great kestrel is flying away,
the last cool winds take the snow away,
and our final breath screams for patience.
As the polar bears disappear into black holes,
the stars that are weakened by the lack of light,
let go of the dark blue canvas and fall into the night.
As the last two doves dance the last spring dance,
my hands reach for the throne of the Father,
where mercy rains down like dew drops in the morning.
When the last petal falls in the universe sphere,
love forces miracles into the deep dark night.
With my wet wings drying I am ready to bring change,
to all the corners of this dying earth,
and in the light beams of Heaven I fly away.
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