People in revolution

Are ordinary men and women

Like you and like me.

They often grow weary

Hearts filled with fear

Smiles seem to fade from hardship

Bright eyes turn dim from crying.

Yet they march and march

Until their feet are tired

And carry blown out torches

With flames embedded in their hearts.

With freedom on their minds

As God's spirit fills their being

They find hope and courage

To survive amidist struggle.

Thinking 'legacy'

For generations after them mater more

Than the pair they may feel.

So they swallow their tears

Put on the armor of faith

Even with chains on their feet

They Still March On. 

That's why I write!