The “Way of the Wild” is a lonely way.
All is blown apart on a summer day.
Lo, like a rose on a stem alone,
They have not a thing they can call their own.
With still beating hearts they wait and see
What life has to offer, and death is to be.
The green grass is now wet with their tears.
Their mute voices cry out- but nobody hears.
( Yu/stan/kema-written at age 11 )