White Clouds (Finale) -

From raging storms of kindred tears

to summers love in whispered ears

of strangers.

Their eyes will meet the scene is set,

these rival foes at dissidence

are unaware.

Fair rose I’m told lay not before

this house of thorn in ageing war,

it’s open.

Forlorn;

foreseen as woken dream.

Becloud belief,

despondency of happiness.