O tempest tossed and flung about
As hellish winds howl all around
And rain drowns out the fearful shout
Stranding her lone soul on the ground,
A lost angel with broken wings
With nothing but her eyes to cry
Like a puppet whose master, wry,
Would have gone mad and cut the strings.
Be sure: once more will dawn her smile,
Her heart will learn to live again
Though not ere many a trial
And endless, desperate bargain…
She has been branded by nature
In ice and stone so long ago,
This beautiful, fragile creature,
Will no more run, neither forego.