a sense of home lives in fragmentation
where the souls live on, quiet and alone
where the light upon us indeed had shone
where the darkness lived in desolation
a sense of peace lives in degradation
where the uncertainty has only grown
where the changing of winds have only blown
where the past knows no attenuation

it is now calm where the storm came to pass
where the breeze was once bitter, it rests sweet
it is now green where there was once no grass
where there was once no joy, joy comes to greet
how does this twist of fate, to me, seem strange?
how does one fathom that the winds still change?