Where has the rain gone
and why do the stars not weep?
The night is pitch black
but the moon dares to rise.
Why will the sun shine still
when she is not mine to keep?
Why does the light dance
when it cannot dance in her eyes?
Brown earth! Brown earth of her grave
yet all around blooms green.
She was the brightest rose,
yet flowers dare to grow.
How can the kingdom breathe
without its queen?
Without her there is nothing
yet still the rivers flow.
Could we not go back
to the way we were then?
And though hope has passed
this dying world goes on.
Days come, new life is born,
ink without a pen;
yet what is the point of it all,
for she is gone.
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