When the oasis dries

And desert sands thrive,

Will the lost sheep receive its drink of water?

And when bandages kill

Whereas metal heals,

Will the dish and spoon be linked eternally?

Lastly...

When light hides fearfully,

And darkness triumphs,

Will the poison apple ever be cleansed?

All these things remain a mystery

I will never understand;

However, one thing I do know:

When tender rains call,

That is when black turns White

And when white turns Black

And when gray is a color that conceals neither Black nor White.