The Wind Blows

The seasons come, the seasons go
There is no way to tell what way the wind will blow
Everything is covered with a thick layer of dirt
And you can't uncover it until you brush away the grime
Through the dust and doom there is a gleam of the Phoenix's feather
Which gives hope a new season will arrive
I stand my back to the crashing waves
My face toward an opening in the clouds where the sun shines
Tiny as my heart in my chest, I know the light is still there
Hope driven with it, drifting through the heavy air
Faster and faster, everything turns, surrounding me with it
I grip an old stick stuck in the ground
It is the only sign of existence in this vast wasteland
I feel the gnarled wood on the palm of my hand
A reminder that I am still here
Soon all the light is gone, closing me in darkness
The mighty storm engulfs me in one bite
And I already feel like I want to give up the fight
Faster and faster the wind blows, and the world spins and roars
Until the world erupts into a fiery gas
I feel nothing once again, this time I think it might be real
My closed eyes gaze toward the stars
The seasons come the seasons go
There is no way to tell what way the wind will blow.

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