Midst Of The Gale
E
Emmanuel George Cefai
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In the midst of the gale
Turn I
Round and round
As
The weather vane
And
As
The weather cock
Turn I.
In the midst of the gale
I feel as
The reed
That is moved here
There
As the wind commands
Wants
Moved here
Moved there
In the midst of the gale
In the midst of the gale
I feel pain
But
Most not of
Turning
Around and around
But
Solitude and
Loneliness
A soul that burns
Low
A pulse that
Ticks slow
A heart that
Throbs not.
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