Here I stand, holding these kites.
Clouds are blowing, I hold thou tight.
No matter what if it's day or night.
My love for you is my guiding light.
Sometimes thou tend to cut the rope.
Leaving me standing while thou aloft.
Discovering the wonders of this dreary world,
and lead thou to a hoard,
of folk whom Goat is thy Lord.
When thy time comes wind ceases,
dropped you from horizon to ground.
Thou mocked, scolded and blamed me
but did I get mad when thou left me?
When illumination arisen behind these,
dazzling darkness, thou kneel, cry,
and murmur those sacred words.
Holding tightly the Beads of Salvation
a glimpse of hope, miracle and faith,
thou ask instead of forgiveness.
Though forgiveness I give before thou leave,
and the rope I hold before thou leave.
Still it's firm, lovely and round,
thy frolic, tender sound
I still want to hear and makes me astound.
Thou are my kites from the very beginning,
Angels, Saints are singing, guarding
and praying.
I admit, I let the wind blows sternly,
to test thy life intentionally.
I blow to lead thou my kite,
that is lost, to the path of humility.