The Winds Of Winter

The sun has gone lazy,

I wake up a few hours early and wait for it.

I wonder,

Am I really waiting for the sun?

Or am I waiting for the sweet sound of prayers to travel in my ears,

Or to hear the birds chirp and thaw out the cold heart of mine.

All this is so fantastic,

And yet I wake up to face the ugliness of this world.

For good to arrive,

An evil is necessary.

You and I both face it.

We, the innocent bear the wrath of the cold winds,

While waiting for a messaih to rise.

Our helplessness is despicable as we stare right into the eyes of the wicked.

He mocks us,

He haunts us,

He seeps into our veins freezing the very essence of life.

And we are left scrambled,

Shutting our windows and doors to stop the tempest from stepping in,

We are left in terror,

Waiting for the few more minutes to pass away.

If we left the immoral to step in,

It corrupts our body and soul.

The corrupted open the windows to let the breeze step in and play with our sharp breaths,

And it is only then that the messaih rises.

It is only then that the prayers travel in my ears.

It is only then that the birds thaw me out.

We've lived in fear long enough,

But no amount of courage will change the injustice.

I'm stuck in a cycle of evil and good,

I'm fighting a war which has nothing to do with me.

I might as well succumb to my wounds and accept my fate,

But the very thought of good arriving after evil keeps me alive.

I'll wait for the good,

Otherwise I'll be no different than the bashful winds.