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Wound of the Wind

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Wound of the Wind

As the wind breezes the clear sea,
Clouds above the sky wandering softly,
Came the flowers flaming from flea,
Whom the air flew the nature's thee.

Oh, leaves through the wild forest,
Let down the spirit and preserve the best,
For the element protrudes nothing but quest,
Among the trees dancing from east to west.

The whispering wind like a sweet melody,
Moved by the song of the rhythm of beauty,
The nature, nothing yet shuttered all but serenity,
Knowing the femininity, being a vanguard of humanity.

Though years murmured the people's habitude,
Sky have become ebony, forbidden against pulchritude,
People becomes Lucifer, rushing, falling in own hands,
As Earth swallowed the mortal darkness behind us.

For why the lonely trees dancing before fell down,
And why the flowers that bloom before felt drowned,
Where is it? Why do this happen?
Oh, please tell me, why the air feel this then?

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