FOR THE CRY

Can’t you hear the sound?

Can’t you feel the warmth?

Despair the sound that cry,

Worst the wind that blows.

Oh… dear brave hearts’

Awaken your hearts, hold your breath tight

And try to find it for a while

And you’ll see those broken hearts…

The hair that curved, the shoulder that wet,

Turning round and round that thirst to be somewhat,

Just rolling on the street with secret tears on the cheeks

That’s none other than The Mother…

The mother that you have left.

Her soul cry out in pain, her heart never rests,

Just crying, with the heartiest desire to know,

Asking you, where’s the truth?

Gautama, Mahatma…

When their times weren’t she in the prison?

Come on young hearts, why you standing there?

Without any language, staring speechless

Like the statue that charmed by the magic.

Get up dear, mother is calling you

Raising her hands again and again

In these stormy times of this evil world

Her eye can’t open to those blood thirsty evils.

Tears on the eyes she can’t move anymore.

For mother needs to be free

From all the sins of the world

Turn your hearts, dry her crying eyes

For it brings a great smile.

By: Site Owner