In a sweep, what that was, i can’t explain/ the wind that gentle blows, that dries my tears, that hears me laugh and that embraces my heart was gone, for how long, who knows, not me/ the wall that i used to lean on, the one who carries me with its great hands just ceased to stand by me, its enough pushing against it things i can’t comprehend/ and the beauty extinguished by the vine, slowly turned away, withered for this time, for the trelis as well withdrew support from it/ where and how? who knows, not me.
Though the fig tree should not blossom
And there be no fruit on the vines,
Though the yield of the olive should fail
And the fields produce no food,
Though the flock should be cut off from the fold
And there be no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will exult in the LORD,
I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
The Lord GOD is my strength,
And He has made my feet like hinds’ feet,
And makes me walk on my high places.
habakkuk 3:17-19
what has become of it? will the wind ever bring joy? will they ever come to heed?
