A Leader

 THOUGH your eyes with tears were blind,
Pain upon the path you trod:
Well we knew, the hosts behind,
Voice and shining of a god.


For your darkness was our day:
Signal fires, your pains untold
Lit us on our wandering way
To the mystic heart of gold.


Naught we knew of the high land,
Beauty burning in its spheres;
Sorrow we could understand
And the mystery told in tears.

Form: Lyric

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