As seasons revolve upon a year,
There are tears that fall like rain,
Only to soak the boughs and ground,
Weathered by the age of pain.
For a storm will rage upon a winter,
To make splinters of trees,
From lightning that pierces sky,
Together will grief winged fly.
Over the hills its black gloom spreads,
In ancient turmoil of the lands,
Enrage the hearts of a people,
In sorrow and loss of their blood.
Like faint sun shining through clouds,
And a vivid rainbow appears,
As pain and storm will dissipate,
To free your face of tears.
Let hope be with this triumph,
A side a new found season,
Of Spring’s glory a time to live,
And thrive by the streams’ banks,
Which provide the soul with promise.
In changing for this hour will come,
When such a fierce storm will end,
To send a lost people their passage right,
Within the fairest sunshine’s light,
The native land its people see,
Nature its hospitality.