appeared to fade.
stories untold were painted on canvas of stones.
these stories had uncovered thoughts of loneliness
He took his time to stand and listen to voices
screaming whispers of hope.
Still shaking, his hands carved dreams of hope.
in his heart he knew they could be true.
He sang songs of freedom to shed light
the melodies destructed trials of misery.
the beatings of his heart, just like a drum
were on the same rhythm
his hands could in fear
his smile in sorrow