She sang like a nightingale,
Like a mother to a child.
She shone like dew on a meadow,
In the merest light of dawn.
In a time of need and whispers,
The whole new world came to her.
Neither asked nor wished for it,
The weaver made her a shrouding.
In her early years she lost it all,
Grief enough for one to share.
But the care of a King enhanced her will,
She rose again and bravely carried on...
She saw the days embraced,
By her hopes and dreams.
She saw the nightly sky,
Open it‘s diamond eyes.
The truth and the lies together,
The daggers and the tongues.
Made her grow like a rose,
Among the thousand thorns.
She broke her shackles,
And threw them into the sea.
Of never ending dreams,
Eternal home for the forever lost.
She raised her wings from the earth,
And flew towards the Sun.
Great White against the clouds,
Made her shine within.
She prayed against her dread,
And hoped once more.
She cried and stood in the storm,
At the hour of great loss.
The truth and the lies together,
The daggers and the tongues.
Made her grow like a rose,
Among the thousand thorns.
She broke her shackles,
And threw them into the sea.
Of never ending dreams,
Eternal home for the forever lost...
She consumed the fear of her king,
And believed once more.
She cast away the storm,
To love and to dream again.
She consumed the fear of her king,
And believed once more.
She cast away the storm,
To love and to dream again....