MikeLigalig.com

There sits in silence in the abode of his halls,
in stark solid firm pretense.
There lays the ghost of one who would not let any in
And there the ghost sits unable to rise to eternity
Unable to vanquish his pride his iron weight his anchor in this valley.

Avast, poor ghost of some olden day
Know that no longer shall you port on the dock of day
Where can you go if not in the isle towards our march
Stay, oh stay, ever long and find your own
For as much as one can declare, freedom, more and so on.

So find yourself, old ghost of day, no longer shall you give recompense
or fill in basket of hearts of man, shall no longer suffer your sanctuary.

Retreat, for away from our bosom, for we must walk forward,
and no longer back.

You stay there on past days memory, unable to move forward, oh the misery.

Finally, at last. Liberty.




Linkback: https://tubagbohol.mikeligalig.com/index.php?topic=27182.0