Wild is the vicious wind,
Coming to descend from the heavens.
To end...
The evil doings of those wicked.
Inflicting with their demonic ways.
Wild is the vicious wind that blows,
Removing possessions kept...
To have them blown and swept away.
With a leaving nothing left but tears...
In eyes regretting a keeping of a selfishness.
In the hope kept fears will be quickly repossessed.
And wild is the stirring within minds to show,
A collective disturbance...
No one afflicted with this can let go.
It grows although it may be perceived,
This occurrence has happened to them randomly.
But nothing to witness on this Earth to see done,
'Naturally'...
With a sudden change that happens effectively,
Occurs to leave it done randomly.
No matter who chooses to believe it does.
'Possessions can be replaced.
Where is your faith? '
~I have nothing left.
Even that is gone.~
'Perhaps it was never there for you to have.
And this 'test' will be difficult for you to pass.'
~I know.
With no 'church' left where I can go.~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem