within this day of imperfection,
lies the boundary line.
It won’t be broken through,
this I know is true.
Thus, the downfall marches to
a steady beat.
If I have to fight in this world,
I want to fight on the side of love,
the most righteous of jewels.
Each and every wound is understandably imperfect,
this claim we all share.
Why, however, do I feel no solitary on the battlefield,
even with brothers standing at both sides?
our downfall is marching
to a steady beat.