He stood there,
With a look of despair,
His eyes seemed to spurn,
But he stood there, sojourn.

Under life’s tribulation,
He shows no frustration.
But there is no life in those eyes,
Only a morose, that is yet to rise.

He looks like he has somewhere to go,
But that place may be filled with woe.
Nevertheless, he still has to proceed,
Whether or not he has some deed.

May the almighty bless this person,
For he has to shine like a Czar.
The journey may be long,
But he has to go where he belongs.

He has to retrieve what was his,
The long-lost soul of his.

.    .    .