To stumble and fall
Yet, with courage to stand tall
The victims of fate
live in humble faith
Clouds are a mirror
of the thread of honour
Dark woods shine
for the brave and sublime
In the night, to behold
a lowly flower as gold
Patience, for time to unfold
bread from the mold
That days are a mere number
when faith is not torn asunder
Then the voices in the prison
are filled with much wisdom
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