For even the night is not complete darkness,
Its vast canvas glows as tiny bright lights scatter the sky.
For even the prickly thorns are not at all worthless,
As they safeguard the exquisite art of a rose.
For even a heavy rainfall leaves a sight,
The stream of colours dance in arches above the earth.
For even the mountains move when the ground shakes,
Figures that leave cracks to embark new journeys.
For even vicious waves have their moment of peace,
Soft and gentle ripples onto the shores of plenty.
For even the cliffs hang to stand tall,
On its tips does it join with the land to soar.
For even the volcanoes burst with creation,
New chance of land in the waters around.
For even the icebergs have their crystals,
Perfectly crafted for admiration.
For even the fierce heart of a man loves,
Struck by the swiftness and grace of a woman.
For even the mighty are soft,
Witnessing a side they thought to be hidden.