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The heart of a storm
is in a soluble form.
It will soon flow away
like sunset from a day.
A storm is a coward.
Forward like a fool's word...
her potency fades out
like the confidence of a doubt.
No storm lives forever.
She comes and goes like fever.
She easily becomes of age
and her courage declines in rage.
Storms are bound to appear
to instill a ferocious fear.
At their sight, do not fret;
they'll soon disappear I can bet.
The road will not often be smooth;
storms will at times come to loot.
Believe you'll always prevail
and into glory, you will sail.