And here's another one that came into my mind:
Courage
Alone amidst a battlefield, A figure makes its stand. With naught but courage left to wield, No weapon in its hand. No armour girt about themself, Nor armies at their call, And with their swiftly failing health, It stands defiant, tall.
Beset on each and every side, By hordes of mighty foes. To crash upon them like a tide, Of ever-present woes. And as the battlefield without, So doth it lay within. The mighty heart, beset by doubt, That beats beneath the skin.
And though they carry many harms From which the blood-tears flow. They do not heed surrender's charms, Defeat they will not know. Forever will they stand their ground, For that which they hold dear. Though by their sorrows they be drowned, Or feel the hand of fear.
And when at last at battle's end, And bodies 'round them lie. Still they stand there to defend, The ground for which they'd die. For all too soon their foes arise, Returned through death's dark door. Then hear again that figure's cry, Once more, dear heart, once more.
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A mind without purpose will walk in dark places
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