Nipped, shadows tell of a silent form,
in a dance they form a bud, from which light
Spoken, my silence is met by the wind outside,
a union that thrives between my heart
and the sky.
Bespoken, the winds tell of a song,
in cadence they form a verse, from which
sweetness is known.
Freed, nature is met by a longing inside,
a union that thrives between the heart
and my sky.