Wild is the churning of the winds.
Wild are the storms that begin.
Faith kept has proven,
To be disconnected from intent.
Minds have been treated,
On a sweetened life to live.
With a promoting of temporary fantasies.
As a life to protect,
By those who tease with possessions kept.
But wild is the churning of the winds.
Wild are the storms that begin.
Distanced is the truth to ignore and reject.
To leave mindsets infested,
With an accepting of disrespect.
And those who could correct,
What they have manifested refuse.
As the rise of mental illness inflicts...
While the whipping of winds,
Leaves Mother Nature 'hoping'...
A foolishness petty that has created nonsense,
Will return to restore those blessed to realize it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem