United in hope, we can rest the dust around us,
With the ardor, we can gyre the wilderness; push the course; settle the confusion.
Did we ever know that we can be married, in a wish to see the bull’s eyes?
That one day, we can remove the cocky mammoth from its mantle;
Without mushing, but with our tied, flabby hands?
Did we ever know that we can raise the flag
With one finger, without shivering?
But we did it, mixed in a mortar;
Though, day and night, we’re being severed,
Derailed with derogatory tirade; thick tribal and holy division.
But today, the hope of being free is our glue, our compass;
And we thrashed the swanky mammoth, mixed in a mortar.
We should not let the glue melt, it’s our last fragile hope.
Our hope is nigh, a month away.
Our hope is greater than us,
But it is…
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