Every sprout is a promise to the seed

Every invention is a tribute to the need

Every intention welcomes a new deed

Every incarnation is the birth of a creed

When everything new bids farewell to old

Each new day hands me memories to hold

Every literature gives me thoughts to mold

Every tragedy leaves me bewildered and cold

Now that I know each chilly night has a sun

I won’t stay at the fence, as a confused one

I do not mind fighting a battle without a gun

But I won’t be a scarecrow of flesh and bone

Instead, I would run inside a rusted barbed wire

Like a quick dazzling spark, ready to ignite a fire