Where the clouds are red and the skies are gold, there were throngs of angst and loss.
Reckless, we came.
In distraught, we smile.
Aren't these all symptoms of a lonely child?
Where the clouds are red and the skies are gold, everything broke down to be made anew.
Torn asunder and deserted at first.
Roaming about, nowhere to go.
All I want is my own abode.
As I trudge my way to a silent retreat, He holds my hand and beckons to His spring.
Where the clouds are red and the skies are gold, a new throng has come for me to flow.
Vessels abound for me to grow.
Together, we rise.
In prudence, we ignite.
Where the clouds are red and the skies are gold, He smiles to me and the family I behold.
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