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■ The oak
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If I were the pain
I would not thwart the happiness from entering everyone’s heart Let it grow from within Bringing tears to one’s eyes Not because of agony but of joy. If I were the growing cowardice in a soul I would help the valour out from the water of fears Polish up the rust on the long-soaked steel of courage Furbish it to its original luster Allow it to shine for every one to see We are determined to fight. If I were the despair and forlornness that dwells in a dream I would take the seed of hope from the soil dried by difficulties and frustrations Plant it to the long lost dreams of a being Water it with courage Dreams are to be fulfilled when leaves of faith shoot up. If I were the love I would go out from the room too cramped for me to breathe Jostle through the bumping forces of anger and hatred Meet the feeble light of peace Together with Courage we’ll give it protection from the strong winds of conflict. I had hoped that the caged truth would be once again set free The unseen furor of justice would be audible in the middle of the jabber of inequity. I wish hope would let us see The confluence of two diverse beliefs into a river endlessly running to the sea of harmony.
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