
Spirit of Iran
A young man lies in prison cell
The darkness is broken by coming day
He stirs his aching body Grabs the wall and pulls himself upwards
Towards the light.
His eyes gleam in the brightness
His soul warms in the day
His crime, a folly, to those who hold him
His soul takes flight leaving his prison behind
Towards the light.
He sees the madness of his tormentors
He see the prison they are in
They cannot fly but rest attached to dogmas
that hold them fast and never let them fly
Towards the light.
Who is in prison? No, not he......
An Irish poet and friend of the people of Iran
whos only weapons are his words.
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