When the storm hit my nest
I thought of finding my safety as being a must
I searched everywhere I could
Even among the hideouts made of wood
I realised not that the storm was sent on purpose
If negativity does not kill you, what do you get to lose
You gain, rather, on strength
On being able to face the other side of the fence
Whatever does not kill me, makes me stronger
Whatever does not kill me, fills me with deep ardor
Whether it be pain or loss
I shall remain, as the moss
Impassive and faithful to the skies
For their mystery is not made on lies!
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