What does it take for a flower to bloom?
Is it spring, is it the dew at dawn?
Or is it the steps you take on a fog filled morning,
embracing each glade as you glide into my morning dreams.

What does it take for the river to flow?
Is it the ocean’s incessant longing?
Or is it the yearning of a broken heart on a lonely night,
asking for solace in a violent world, filled with voids.

What does it take for the storm to rage?
Is it the indignation towards the injustices?
Or is it the passion to take on the world for your love,
destroying the sacred threads that kept the sorrows away.