The atmosphere of uncertainty
Has ruled over each skull,
An extent is unawareness, 

I know-not if it’s a dream,
Or even I am out of a bed,
Which hosts nights with hymns,

The cause is the feeling behind,
Of having no friend by the bed side,
And goosebumps grows in inches

When an eagle flies us on her wings,
Knowing her thorny nest is a destination,
I jumped-off in front of the fearful others,

For I promised trust to the wind,
Which blows and fades, blows again,
But not to those who are born to die.