In a world where shadows dwell,
Where trials arise and dreams dull,
There stood a thorn with a purpose so pure,
To lend strength and courage, to endure.
A fallen thorn upon the path,
Its purpose hidden, veiled in wrath,
Yet deep within its thorny frame,
Is a gift, a chance to reclaim.
A weary dim soul came along,
With invisible steps and a broken song,
Seeking attention, seeking aid,
Unaware of the thorn’s charade.
As feet met thorny resistance,
The soul stumbled, lost its balance,
But with each prick, a lesson arose,
A strength ignited, a new path chose.
For the thorn, it did not intend,
To harm or wound, to break or bend,
But in its presence, a test unfurled,
To forge resilience in the weakened world.
The Help of The Fallen
