The Lionheart Is Born Poem by Mark Lawmon
The Lionheart Is Born
The world is slowly turning,
And the sky is black outside,
But the fire in his heart burns brighter,
And the bellows do not subside.
In the chaos of this sleepless forge,
'Midst the fury and the heat,
As iron is sharpened by iron,
A new power finds his feet.
And though the world keeps turning,
And the sky is nigh upon dawn,
In a restless corner of the night,
The Lionheart is born.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/19/2024 12:32:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Poem has a lovely cadence to it. Well done!