When the winter has turned cold,
Every droplet of water frozen to ice.
When the last Autumn leaf falls,
And every tree before adorned is unclothed.
Only the strong will live on,
The cycle moving most seamlessly.
In its purpose ever-most true,
To rid the world of its frail and weak.
I account myself of their kind,
Surely I too would suffer their fate.
Were it not for human comforts,
Offering me the warmth of a sedate life.
But now, no longer devoid of purpose.
With stalwart reason and resolute point,
Might I presume my life worthwhile
When others piety in the word love is lost?
And even if my ends be met, Or-
This soul submitted to eternal grace.
You are what makes me strong,
And the strong will be the last to fall.
