Where is the light ?
It never seems like we are close to that sight ,
When our hope to living is being threatened
Poised on the great Rope of life and peroration
The train of survival ,
sustained great feets above the ground,
Seated on the knife-point of regress to the overture of life,
The beginning.

Our days have become night ,
Our might has lost the Fight
Our space has become viselike
The...