Streams flow,
Mountains stand,
Fields obedient to the Sun
Wish to remain unturned.
But winds blow from every corner,
Kings trample through
On their iron hoofed horses,
Merchants of War chant
Jingling their gold.
Flowers swaying in the air,
Humble roots desperately gripping down,
Wondering why so hard
To just be.
Hearts may deceive
Storms are raging yonder and beyond
Until the undiscriminating wind
Comes home.