In polished spirit, prophets climb the mount,

Like Moses, who communed with God above,

But minds unpolished leave them lost, no count.

Like Icarus, who dared to fly above,

But with wax wings, fell to the sea below,

So, too, do unrefined thoughts bring less love.

The wind may blow, and trees may bend and bow,

As if the heavens feel our inner strife,

The natural world reflects the know-how

Of nature's power to mirror our life,

As if the elements can empathize,

Our spirits need to shed the weight of strife.

Embrace the storm, for transformation lies

Within its eye, and guides us to the skies.