25 May 2012
I sit here in the great oak tree
And look over the mountains, to the sea
The sea is filled with parrell
The sea is no longer misty blue
but burning a dangerous red
The wind begins to roar
Birds grow weary, to the north they soar
I look to the seas again
And now a hurricane comes in
It is magestic and beautiful
Yet to others it's as if it were charging bull
The air around me stills
As a tiger who moves in for the kill
I know my end is near
I whisper, "Goodbye." And shed a tear
I throw away my final fear
Then I jump.
Opuss № I