Go, cry one last time
Feeble and withered  in the storms
Your soul had its darkest night

Ye think its the wrath of God?
This endless menace
Or the creation of your soul?

However ye may deem my friend,
How good wings are without wind?
And the blossoms without scent?

Ye spread the wings to glow
Mistaken; to reach heaven?
But the gentle breath withheld its blow

Bow not to the pity of your heart
Nor the squashing unuttered pain
For glad tidings will be heard

Cherish, for what ye have in soul
Rare bear in such might
So go cry one last time