Onward Poem by shubhen bhandare

The road might be strewn with thorns,
Walk as though its filled with roses,
The feet may bleed in the aftermath,
A spring nearby will wash away,
Worries that you started off with,
Pricks that you endured en route,
Searching the soul for a better tomorrow,
Burying the past of whatever is left,
Marching onward, a soldier in harness,
Prepared for the next battle,
The will his very sword,
Patience his armour,
No challenge so great,
No strife unconquerable,
No fate dishonest.