Wilted lilies trod the path,
Their leaves caress the dismal balm.
They create a salty bath,
Though their waters keep a calm.
Mighty lions with bared teeth,
Upon their jaws rest sharpened knives,
Keep watch on lambs withheld beneath,
Though their own are cowardly lives.
Sunlight shines through clouds’ gaps.
While thunder howls with heavy might,
Afraid and still, the lions collapse,
And, mountains move within one’s sight.
Lilies arrive to bedeck quiet death,
Their tears pool to compute a score.
Terrified, they catch their breath,
For the dead they sought, is no more.
With a start, the lions awaken,
Confused, Their pride assailed,
To find the gentle lamb is taken,
And, the mighty mountains sailed.
Confused, Their pride assailed,
To find the gentle lamb is taken,
And, the mighty mountains sailed.
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