there he stands.
scarred by a nightly torture
undaunted by the blackened tunnel
forward marching in the absence of the Sun.
and while he knows the world was built not for him,
he trods on, holding
firm to the belief that a different planet
though undiscovered,
lives.
close not your heart.
breathe.
close not your heart.
breathe…breathe.
the reality of self which dwells in doubt
awaits
not death. but an awakening
onto its true self.
believe...
