All the saints I’m around turn to grey.
Their black eyes just stare and slay
My hope into dusty powders.
With teardrops, they’re falling together.
But the nature’s mercy
Brushes up each pain carefully.
Every invisible pieces of heart on the ground
Are transformed into jewels of red, star, yellow, crown.
I realize the world suddenly
Blesses every sad soul secretly,
With colorful lessons to appreciate,
With the never-dying faith.