𝐵𝓊𝓈𝓎 𝐼𝓃 𝒲𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇

What we are is endless,

what we are is recollections,

joy and anger,

souls marked by distance

and bound by time.

So to those who touched my life,

I pen this;

ode to friendship, kinship,

ode to love, the father of glory.

Glory for those who touched this story.

The days page turns,

companionship fans the flare of faith,

each bond rare and hard to break.

I cherish those ties, so hard to make

and give glory to those who fashioned this story.