Like a dry wind blowing aimlessly, while the dry tumbleweed rolls to nothing and nowhere. Like the flight of the Pied Crow that pages dead straight to the last page of the period.

Like the hungry Great White shark that circles terrifyingly around its already injured, bloodied victim. Also like the poor Boer that still sows so hopefully, while he does not know if he will reap another harvest.

Like a once Nobleman, who first scorns his best friend, and then he betrays him or her heartlessly, yes on his eternal way of no return or turnaround.

Like a sacrifice scorched pitch-black, burned into soot, while the Judgment Wind blows away an empty prayer, just like Cain’s sacrifice, to nothing and nowhere.

Like the big life-secret, wrongly interpreted by the world people, wrongly guessed, there the precious life-existence suddenly feels so dirty and sticky.

But like a Bride dressed so fine and beautiful, while her veil blows soft and hazy around her, while she wonders why her Bridegroom still lingers.

So Sion calls, oh my El, I too have caused the cock to crow three times, but look, through Your Precious Blood I was bathed clean again, as Your born-again Child, so that I can blow in Your Cool Breeze together with You, through Your eternity.