Sweet summer sunshine

And her warm embrace,

Her radiance, as pale as egg-whites,

Veils her face. 

 

She shies away from you and I 

Behind the soufflé of clouds, 

Mighty and high,

Far, far away from the mortal crowd. 

 

Or perhaps she's afraid 

Of the power we hold

To birth, sunder and devastate

Those shaped from the same dough. 

 

Fragile feeble fingers 

Find themselves placed against pursed lips 

Of those who espouse silence silver. 

Pretty powerless tulips. 

 

Their hands are calloused and bruised 

Since long ago they spoke too much. 

They now find solace in quietude, 

And that's okay, 'cause to try is human. 

 

They're afraid 

Of the power we hold 

To birth, sunder and devastate 

Those shaped from the same dough. 

 

Bold beautiful bodies

Don their scarred faces with pride, 

Like intricate veins on silver leaves, 

Bathing in moonlight, serene and divine. 

 

They who stand up for those, 

Whose feet are shackled by prickly vines, 

Sport crowns immersed in the finest pools of gold. 

To strive for things larger than yourself is divine.

 

They're not afraid 

Of the power we hold 

To birth, sunder and devastate 

Those shaped from the same dough. 

 

Shifa