dust has gathered on me,
from unmoving to coldness likened to death.

the cursed stay cursed,
bonded and slaved, whose freedom flee on sight.

the helpful hands scatter,
though numbered and counted, still warmth is shared.

still hope grows,
though the sun fades a little more each day.

i still pray,
for the day when sky and earth merge into freedom.

boundless love and freedom.