Nights had been colder than the one I sit now in,

The darkness did prevail, but it was not within,

Chilled to the bones, but there is a fire inside

I may stumble on my way, but I will finish the ride


I have been a traveler, drifting along the time,

Past to the present now, into the future I sublime,

My story is in the writing, and if I must, I will say,

With the strength to carry on, I will surely stay,


When I flip back the pages that are already fading,

And I am getting older, with the wars that I am waging,

What becomes of the dreams if I close my heart to?

In the abyss, would I fall, but I am not made to,


Am I made for greatness or the race they ask me to run?

They say it is comfortable, but where’s the thrill, where’s the fun,

As I wipe the sweat on my forehead, and the blood in my eyes,

I know I will survive, for my hope never dies,


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