For every storm there is a room
And find the palace now,
From deserts are a tomb and gloom,
Where clothes must just allow.
My heart and soul seeks for splendor,
The beautiful ones try their poetry and words
For riches to come in the Hereafter.
I see unity as a bridge, a sign will tell,
Ghosts are for the telling,
We call them experts and impressive,
As more of them appear from the woods.
In food is a certain quality of taste,
May they abstain and be erased.
For food manages my godly life,
Just as the fish manage with strife.
To slump and slay shall be the decision,
To get the rest needs rest itself, as the basket
Is carried by the limped workers.
Sleep pokes at you from the higher reaches,