The little bird is my companion,
On the branch of a tree.
Filling the air,
With its melodic voice.
The gentle lake,
Gestures me to sit beside her.
The calmness in her presence,
Steals my hury and aloneness.
she blows a wind so soft,
which touches and passes by me.
Like a falling feather,
My mind is settling on the ground.
The wandering mind is now settled,
Every feeling in me is now perceivable,
Now I own my moment and
My thought is sleeping on my lap.
But once again that terrifying hatred,
in the form of
thunder and rainstorms.
This innocent settled mind
Has been badly wounded.