What A Joyous


For a day to assume it is night
Is such as mistaken a bird hath no flight

When a time was one that we understood
Were it for our worse,? Nay for the good?

Torment, triumph, and defeat now unknown
How harsh must we've been on enemies, was it shown?

Thinking of fears yet energizing in more for none to see
Though uncertain of alignment for us the world will be

Tare the rope that keeps 'I' in a state of one, "confine"
Forth hence To unregrettably see shamefully blind

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