AbhayUpon the boughs of weary trees,
Rest the countless woes of those once free.
For as brave and bold as they wish to be,
They are now but shadows of something great.
There was a time when they reached for the sky,
But the age of ambition has long gone by.
They’ve seen the world for all its lies,
And truth resigns them to restless fate.
Stubborn and stiff, aged without grace,
Not willing to budge, not willing to chase.
One day they’ll see the error of their ways,
I’m afraid however, it will be too late.
