Me like a speck in the gizzard of mother earth,
Sitting coldly, my short time, waiting to be grind,
Didn't I wear any power? embracing odd of all unpleasant kind,
My faith like dry pumpkin, hanging on top of grandma's hearth.
I watch the cloud go crazy, but can't scold,
For, am already drenched more than a Hippo in the sea,
The sun stings like bee,
For, it has been tortured, upon me to grow cold.
Jokey dance of wilful whirlwind,
My fearless heart, before me zoomed away,
Maybe declared in this garden, to be king only " in the castle of my mind"
For, builders of earth now the cruellest aliens fighting my kingly way.
Whether, am only a lusty dust, waiting for soil tribute, to pay,
Jehovah himself has the final say.