But at last here comes the monsoon and the rains,
then the Resurrection Morning.
She could feel the power coursing through her viens.
And her soul was soaring.
A journey ahead of the chosen few,
it must start before the next dew.
Under the cloak of darkness she begins her voyage,
Armed only with the power of clairvoyance.
The wind blew steadily,
and the boat carried her sail.
With the siege of her vessel,
Hope had been converted into fairytale -
panic rose faster than the sea level.
It was cold and dark
With the change of the moon came a lowering of a tune.
A most gruesome mood,
Twards the one who did intrude.
He felt the pain in her scream,
When he heard the call.
He sailed with full steam,
But with his back against the wall.
He knew the stakes,
And they were testing the fates.
The breaking up of the human race
is the most unhealthy season of all.
**When a whirlwind trade-war is turned out of its course, it is regarded as lotus petals that are extrorse.
**The same afternoon he met the commanding officer of the Monsoon.
