The Unyielding Poem by Mystic Qalandar

The poorest world can't ever smother
The lamp that truth has lit within—
Though nights are long and tempests gather,
Its flame resists the howling din.
Through barren lands and frozen hours,
It casts a warm, defiant glow,
A quiet force no darkness conquers,
That thaws the ice of human woe.

The poorest world can't ever smother
The pulse of love that dares to rise—
No war's grim shroud, no famine's blight,
Can quench its fire in human eyes.
It beats in hands that lift the fallen,
In whispered strength through prison walls,
A sacred, undefeated calling
That breaks all chains and crumbles walls.

The poorest world can't ever smother
The song that stirs within the breast—
Through ruins, rust, and fields of clover,
It finds a path where hope can rest.
It swells in dreams no tyrant mars,
A river weaving stone and sand,
A melody of scattered stars
That heals the cracks in every land.

The poorest world can't ever smother
The spirit's ember, bold and deep—
Though storms may rage and structures totter,
This light endures while shadows sleep.
For truth, and love, and song entwined
Are pillars no despair can raze:
The lantern of the steadfast mind,
Igniting dawn's eternal blaze.