My faith is mine
And mine alone.

This hope,
You cannot take away.

I’ll be drained
Of each drop of blood,
You’ll drag my name
Through the cherry-stained mud,
But my soul, my soul, my soul
Is saved.

My soul, my soul,
Is saved.

My knight in shining armour upon his gallant steed,
Or rather, truth be told, my gallant knight in his shining steed,
Rescued me in my hour of need
When I decided to adventure off piste
To view an ancient church,
For a couple of minutes, or so I thought,
With not a care for any danger or dragons.
But my wheels sunk deep into the cemented mud,
So I had to ring and surreptitiously confess my deed.
He came racing back
To the midsts of nowhere,
Thank goodness for what three words.
We pushed, we pulled, we added straw and sheets of wood,
But the vehicle was stuck fast.
With the light dimming,
We shovelled the earth,
The van decided to play ball,
And with a flurry of mud
Came free at last,
Thanks to my honourable knight
For rescuing me in my misdemeanour.

Oh me and my easily distracted brain!

You may be strolling
along a muddy path
yet the birds sing
atop the Eden's tower
deep down you're a wonder!

from the dank mud up
flower small on top
oh so beautiful

A monkey's wedding: our elders told us
it was, each time it rained with the sun out.
Pink skies, white clouds, golden tears and
the good times of being young.

Tree climbing to touch the sky as high,
fruit picking, and stone skipping at turbid puddles,
The smell of after rains, wet grounds, dew tear drops;
all at the nights condescending condensation.

Chasing rainbows on rumours of Peter pan's hidden
treasures at the end. As a guileless manner supposed.
Sunlight creeping through cracks of clouds,
the remainder of light showers, reminisced in the mud.

Sculptures we'd try our best to carve,
playing house outside, under the upcoming sun,
And trying our best at reciting parent's love.

Tell me have you seen anything as beautiful,
as the beauties after the rain?

The rains come heavy
often every side
and you might dance
like Instagram cushions suggest
or you might just gaze
through eighties music video panes
I ain’t missing you at all

Afterwards though
the sodden ground dilemma,
paths erased
muddied water
that flows regardless
while your boots lose home

i'm still in the mud
growing from the dank lush mud
up to that which is

I looked out the window, goodness me
torrential rainfall in Germany

on the TV a reporter said
people are missing, many are dead

aerial views of the devastation
leave no room for the imagination

they show the extend of the flood
which left the area covered in mud

horrendous stories and detailed accounts
explain what happened and no one doubts

this is a direct result of the climate change
experts say, it's neither surprising nor very strange