Confined in dark and lost and tired,
Hope hung high yet feet are mired.
Each holds apiece an ideal that's real,
kept apart by circumstantial seal.
Sacked and stabbed and scorched then stumbled,
written in pain to retain lessons mumbled.
"Tear down walls of which divide", they cried.
Rage subside, onward and upward they thus stride.
10.000x6.000 px
