(T. Beechey)

Standing alone where others have fallen

Where time is precious and moods are sullen

Separated from futures and pasts

Somewhere between the mists and the masts

As the hands of time continue undaunted

Reaching a point where fates are flaunted

Rarely a smile is ever achieved

From both the forlorn and the bereaved

Without provocation,the curtain descends

Too soon for judgments,too late for amends

Yet,through His grace,the will to survive

Will forever endeavor the courage to strive

Footsteps are shuffled,words become muffled

But not even a wisp of a feather is ruffled

Lost in the sights of moonlit nights

The warriors' winged souls take flights

From amidst the ruins and amongst the rubble

Restoration's dreams begin to bubble

In adversity's face,one must arise

Even as stormclouds envelop the skies

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