In The Old Tales - A Poem of Hope

In all the old tales
of fighting against wickedness
The folk could have bailed
With all the stess

But instead they kept going
By sheer will
They kept showing
Although the times were ill

Many ask how or why
For their burdens wearied their soul
Hope seemed like a lie
Digging their last hole

Now I understand
They were holding onto something
Next to their heart, tightly in their hand
And not at all for nothing

We may not be a brave hero
But we have battles of our own
And they don't matter zero
This is what the stories have shown

What are we holding onto?
Why do we fight?
For our hope is so few
A fading light

But still-there's good
And we'll cling to it as we should
Around our inner being-curled

We fight for this
For life and love
And we will never miss
There are the things that matter above


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